


In The Core

by A_z_0_9



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Artist! Keith, Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Langst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Original Character(s), Near Death Experiences, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Shared Dreams, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, also shiro and allura own their own companies/businesses, hopefully, magician! lance, poor lance, rating due to violence, shared emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_z_0_9/pseuds/A_z_0_9
Summary: All it takes is a magic show in the middle of the night and a chance encounter afterward for Keith to be thrown into the world of magic.OrWhen Keith first sees the magician Lance, he doesn't expect to run into him at the farmer's market soon after, or almost die and wake up with magical powers and a voice in his chest. But he does.





	1. A Magical Night

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a way for me to sort of vent my feelings(and insecurities), so please forgive the terrible pacing orz. a lot of stuff happens in the first few chapters, but things slow down after
> 
> PS: sorry Lance :/

Keith inhales deeply as he walks down the wide boardwalk, closing his eyes as he relishes the warm breeze that shifts his bangs around. The night is quiet, with no moon to distract from the thick sheet of darkness that settles over his shoulders like a blanket. The only lights come from further inland to his right, and the stars that wink in and out of existence above his head. All the shops are closed for the night, and the avenue is blissfully empty. To his left lies the ocean, calm and persistent in the darkness.

 

He yawns as he walks, tired but nowhere near ready to turn in on such a magical night. It must be close to midnight now, and he piushes on through the cozy night away from his apartment even as his eyes start to drift closed on their own accord.

 

It’s these nights he likes the best, where his perception is comfortably hazy and the line distinguishing reality from fiction becomes muddled and blurry. There’s something about the cloudless night and the soft rush of water that pulls the tension from his shoulders. Out in the dark like this, with not even a streetlight to throw his mind back to the real world, he doesn’t have to maintain his airs and sit still through the mind-numbing intricacies of politics with Shiro.

 

Out here, he can simply exist, without consequences or thinly-veiled judgement being passed behind his back.

 

Well, almost.

 

A gentle wind chime, accompanied by a jarring vibration at Keith’s hip yanks him away from his tranquil mood. His shoulders jump up at the ringtone and he reluctantly pulls his phone from his pocket with a scowl.

 

He thought he’d made sure to leave it at home, but here it is, still vibrating loudly and disrupting the peace. He unlocks the phone after a moment’s hesitation and stops walking, turning towards the invisible sea just a few feet away as he reads the notification.

 

Shiro: Are you at the boardwalk again? You know we have an early meeting at the Galra estate tomorrow morning, right? It’s almost two hours away.

 

Keith deflates with a sigh. He’d definitely forgotten about that, but now that Shiro’s brought it up, it all comes back to him.

 

Right, Shiro has an important meeting with the wealthy Lord Zarkon about something important having to do with his business, and Keith is obligated to attend because they’re brothers, despite having no other association with the company. Great.

 

Keith: I know

Keith: I’ll start heading back soon

 

True to classic Shiro fashion, Keith gets a reply within the minute.

 

Shiro: Okay. Try not to fall into the ocean again.

 

Keith: It was ONE time.

 

Shiro: It happened last week.

 

Keith decides not to dignify that with a reply, and instead pockets his phone and continues on his way. He’ll have to start heading back soon if he wants more than four hours of sleep, but he can’t resist the temptation to stay out for just a little bit longer.

 

As he walks, the quiet, comfortable mood he’s built up slowly returns, but it’s not the same as before. Because of the interruption and the mention of yet again more business things, he can’t quite let himself relax to the same level as before, which makes his steps feel oddly unbalanced.

 

Or maybe it’s because he’s just now noticing the bright orange streetlight just a little ways down the boardwalk, and the small crowd gathered there.

 

His steps slow, until eventually he stops completely, and just watches the crowd from afar. It’s actually a fairly big crowd, considering the time, and the people there all face two lone figures that stand head and shoulders above them, probably on a platform or table.

 

There are faint sounds of awe and astonishment from the crowd, quiet from here but just loud enough to make Keith wonder how he didn’t hear them earlier. One of the figures raises their hands and there’s a flash of blue smoke. Then they lean down towards the crowd and the distant noises grow louder.

 

Keith starts forward again, slowly walking up to the left side of the crowd. As he gets close enough to see in detail, he notices that both the figures standing above the crowd are male, and they face their audience with their backs close to the sea.

 

The one who created the blue smoke wears a white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows and with the top buttons undone, along with tight-fitting black pants and black dress shoes.

 

His tan face is covered almost entirely with bright blue paint, curling designs that sweep over his cheekbones and curve over his nose. His eyes are heavily adorned with black and blue makeup that turns his eyelashes into sharp daggers, drawing even more attention to his face. The paint travels across his chin and even around the outside of his ears, and three slim lines run over his jaw and down his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt.

 

When Keith peers closer, he sees that there are even lines of paint following the curve of his forearms, encircling his wrists and delicately twisting around his fingers.

 

The other one on the table has similar, but significantly simplified paint on his dark brown face too, colored yellow instead of blue, and ends at his neck. Like the former, he’s dressed in a white shirt and black pants, and together they make an oddly fitting pair.

 

The blue one gestures wildly to the yellow one—his partner, Keith assumes—and the crowd oohs and ahs as he proudly presents a card. While the second smiles bashfully, the first one full-on beams, a thousand-watt smile aimed right at his partner.

 

They do a complicated handshake, then the blue one turns back towards the crowd, smile still in place.

 

“For our grand finale, we need a volunteer from the crowd,” he says animatedly, leaning towards the crowd in a theatrical manner. The crowd eats it right up, and hands shoot up at his offer. After a moment, Keith raises his too, rationalizing that he’s not going to be picked anyways, so why not? He still feels relaxed, ready for anything, and he wants to see the final trick.

 

The blue one makes a show of scanning the crowd, hand on his chin and eyes scrunched up like he’s having a hard time deciding. Then, his eyes fall on Keith, way at the back right, and he pauses. They hold eye contact for a few seconds, then he grins and points right at him.

 

Keith turns to look behind himself, but there’s nobody there, and he suddenly remembers that his hand is currently raised in the air.

 

 _Shit_.

 

“How about you, way in the back there with the red jacket?”

 

 _Oh shit._ He did not think this through at all.

 

But it’s too late to back out now, because everyone in front of him turns to look at him, some disappointed about not being picked, but most excited to see the last trick. Heat blossoms across Keith’s face as he slowly walks up to the table, turning a shade not dissimilar to his jacket.

 

Oh god he feels so stupid for raising his hand now.

 

When he—very reluctantly—climbs up onto the same white table as the blue one, the blue one grins at him, and his face darkens more at the sheer magnitude of emotion in the look.

 

“So, brave volunteer, what’s your name?”

 

Keith shifts around and tries not to look at the crowd eagerly watching. “Keith,” he says simply.

 

The blue one raises an eyebrow. “Keith…?”

 

“Just Keith,”

 

The blue one turns to the crowd. “Ooh, looks like I chose a mysterious volunteer.” The crowd oohs with him, captivated by his performance. “That’s fine though, all we need is a first name.”

 

As he speaks, his partner hops off the table he’s standing on and moves it about twenty feet away, still along the edge of the boardwalk. When he’s done, he climbs up and turns towards Keith and his partner.

 

“Keith,” the blue one says, turning to face him. The humor is gone from his eyes, and he looks at Keith with complete seriousness. “I’m going to use my telekinetic abilities to levitate you from this table over to the other one, okay?” Then, quieter, “Is it fine if I touch your shoulders?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Keith replies hesitantly. What has he just gotten himself into? Somehow, despite the bright light from the streetlamp and the crowd below him, he feels loose and uninhibited. Nobody even seems to recognize him.

 

Like a switch has been flipped, the blue one grins and turns to the crowd. “Did’ya hear that? I, the amazing Lance, will use my telekinetic powers to levitate our volunteer Keith over to that table, where my associate Hunk awaits!” He points dramatically to the table twenty feet away, and the crowd roars, shifting around so that they’re gathered around both tables and the space between.

 

The blue one, Lance, places his hands on Keith’s shoulders and turns him back to face away from the table. They lock eyes, and Lance smiles softly, grip tightening over his shoulder. His peeks over Keith’s shoulder to the other table, the closes his eyes. Up close and personal like this, Keith can tell that he must be insanely attractive underneath the face paint and makeup, and he feels heat rush to his cheeks at the realization.

 

“Are you ready, Keith?” he asks. Keith opens his mouth to reply, but Lance smirks before any words can leave his mouth, eyes still closed. _“Good.”_

 

The feeling that overcomes Keith as that last word leaves Lance’s mouth is hard to describe.

 

First, an icy breeze runs across the boardwalk, raising goosebumps on his arms and sending a chill down his spine. The wind pushes his bang away from his face and forces his eyes shut with its intensity. With his eyes closed, and standing on a table with some street magician, Keith has the sudden thought that he’s probably dreaming.

 

It doesn’t feel like he’s actually awake, just stuck in the awkward limbo between consciousness and sleep, and after a moment, even the feel of the table beneath his feet falls away. Maybe he’s passed out on the boardwalk right now, having fallen asleep before he could get back to his apartment.

 

An unexpected shudder runs down Keith’s spine, and his eyes snap open.

 

What the fuck? What _the fuck?!_

 

He’s not on the table anymore, or the ground. Keith is floating in the air towards the other table, where Hunk has moved to await his arrival. Keith makes the mistake of looking down, and an intense surge of vertigo sends his head reeling. Back on the other table, Lance stands in the same position he was in before Keith closed his eyes, frozen.

 

His arms are still raised to the shoulders of an invisible person, and Keith just now notices that it still feels like his hands are on his own shoulders, despite being almost ten feet away. The realization shakes him to his core and sends his mind into a crazed frenzy, but not as much as when Lance raises his head to look at him, suddenly frantic.

 

“Shit, my grip is slipping!” he yells, making a frustrated expression as his arms start to shake.

 

Below Keith, the crowd—he’d forgotten there were other people entirely—gasps and murmurs travel back and forth.

 

 _He has to be kidding_ , Keith thinks as he looks down at the ground again—still a bad idea. _It’s gotta be a part of the act._ He’s gradually floating higher and higher with each passing second, and he can hear the rush of blood roaring in his ears.

 

“Hunk!” There’s a clear note of panic in Lance’s voice as one of his hands falls. “You have to take over, I can’t hold him in the air for much longer!”

 

Even as he speaks, Keith rises higher, turning so that his back is to the ground and he has a view of the stars. He struggles against it, of course, but he can only move his head and twitch his fingers if he really tries. The feeling of hands on his shoulders lessens by half.

 

“Pull through it, Lance,” Hunk yells encouragingly. “I know you can do it!”

 

The crowd shouts words of encouragement over to Lance.

 

Lance’s remaining arm jolts to the side, and Keith drops a foot before being jerked to a halt. There are several screams from the crowd. Lance falls to his knees, head dropping, and now Keith can’t move at all, stuck looking at the sky as adrenaline fills his veins with fire. He’s still moving along slowly, but he can’t tell how far along he is, and the thought of falling is terrifying.

 

“I—I can’t hold him any longer!” Lance yells suddenly, and Keith drops like a sack of potatoes to a symphony of screams as his hand drops.

 

He cringes and tenses up his muscles in preparation for hitting the ground, but it never happens. He hits something solid with an oof, and opens his eyes.

 

Hunk has caught him on the second table, and he grins down at Keith to the sound of loud cheering. He sets him down on his feet after whispering a quiet “sorry about Lance” and turns to the crowd, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder.

 

“Thank you all for watching,” he says over the din. “And thanks especially to our volunteer, Keith! Give him a hand, everybody.”

 

The spectators clap for Keith and a few even whistle, all while Keith awkwardly stands next to Hunk. After a moment, Hunk hops off the table and offers a hand up to Keith to help him down, which he takes after a second of hesitation. Hunk gives him a warm smile and nudges him back into the crowd before climbing back onto the table. Lance strolls over to the other table with a wide grin on his face, and climbs onto the table to stand next to Hunk.

 

“As always, you can find us here every other Thursday, eleven to midnight!” Lance shouts with a whoop. Hunk takes his hand and they raise their arms, bowing deeply when they lower them.

 

Keith’s heart feels like it’s beating way too quickly in his chest as he watches the performers clap their hands in unison. There are twin booms not unlike distant thunder, a brief flash of blue and yellow smoke, and they’re gone from the tables. The crowd still cheers and claps for a few more seconds, before slowly calming down and quieting.

 

Keith shoulders his way through the mass of people back towards his apartment with a hand up to his neck, feeling his erratic pulse as he walks away.

 

Of course, there has to be a rational way to explain what Lance had done, but as the seconds tick by, nothing comes into Keith’s head. He knows that magic doesn’t exist, not really, but how else could he have been levitated in the air to a table twenty feet away? His rational brain knows there’s an explanation somewhere, but he can’t seem to find it over the pounding of his heart in his chest.

 

He can’t get it to slow down, even with the now-quiet atmosphere reestablished. The water lapping at the edge of the boardwalk sounds loud in his ears, a ceaseless, rushing torrent of water and white noise. Keith hazards a glance back towards that lone streetlamp and the crowd, now slowly thinning as people start to disperse. The tables still seem to be there, but the performers are nowhere in sight.

 

Keith turns back to face forward with a shudder. The icy wind he’d felt during that ‘trick’ is long gone, and the air feels comfortably warm as he heads home. That must’ve been his imagination, or just a freak cold draft from the ocean. Yeah, that makes at least a little bit of sense. It was just Keith’s imagination, combined with his tiredness and the way the night seems to bring the unnatural and impossible within the realm of reality.

 

Right. And even if he can’t explain the trick, there’s still no way it was any form of magic in the fantastical sense. He’s seen plenty of magic tricks, and he can’t exactly explain those either, but that doesn’t mean it’s magic.

 

Keith feels better now, and he picks up his pace down the dark boardwalk towards his apartment with a normal heartbeat. He’s fully awake, he knows, but the peaceful mood he’d been in before Shiro’s text has returned, and he lets himself look up at those blinking stars with a small smile.

 

He can’t deny that it was a good trick, incredibly life-like and at the same time mind-boggling, but that’s all it was: a trick. Keith got the chance to participate in a nice trick, and for a while, he’d believed it was truly magic. Those magicians, Lance and Hunk, were clearly experienced practitioners, and they’d done their job in making Keith believe in magic while he ‘floated’ over to the second table.

 

So maybe that was the true magic, that they’d been able to make Keith really believe it, even if it was just for a short while in the middle of the night while he was tired.

 

Keith doesn’t feel tired anymore, a steep contrast to when he’d first left his apartment. He feels wide awake and ready to do—he doesn’t even know what, but he feels like doing _something_. So, he speeds up more, until he’s jogging home under the inky sky. When he glances back one last time, a few minutes later, the whole boardwalk is dark, no streetlights on to disturb the peace.

 

~

 

Lance folds up the tables with a wide grin on his face while Hunk fixes the wiring of the streetlight they worked under, removing his own hardware and letting it shut off to wash the boardwalk in darkness. Lance keeps working, unhindered, but Hunk pulls out a flashlight right after, clicking it on and holding it between his teeth as he packs up his stuff.

 

Lance stacks the two tables on top of each other and pushes them off the boardwalk and into the ocean with a splash, ignoring the spray of water that hits him in the face as a result. It’ll stay underwater until he calls it back up again next week

 

Just as he and Hunk finish packing up the rest of their things, he hears footsteps approaching.

 

“You are making very good progress, Lance,” a voice says from the darkness. Lance looks up with a grin.

 

“You think so, Allura?”

 

Lance’s mentor steps up to him with a broad smile. “Of course, though you might have gone a bit overboard with that last trick. Nearly gave that boy a heart attack, judging by his pulse.”

 

Lance scratches the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

 

“I couldn’t resist, sorry. And did you hear the crowd? They were totally into it!”  


Allura frowns, but there’s no real disapproval in her gaze. “At least tell him it’s all for show beforehand.”

 

Lance tosses his bag over his shoulder and starts inland with Hunk in tow. They set off down an empty side-street, sticking close to the side of the building on their right.

 

“But that ruins it,” he protests eventually. “It’s not like that guy really believes in magic, he thought it was a part of the act.”

 

Allura thumps him on the shoulder hard, and Lance yelps. “What have I told you about reading people without their permission?” she reprimands.

 

“Not to do it?”

 

They turn off the street onto a larger one, with streetlights and an actual sidewalk. There are a few restaurants with their lights on further down the road, and Allura frowns over at Lance and Hunk.

 

“Exactly. And take off that ridiculous disguise, there’s a group of your fans up ahead. You too, Hunk.”

 

Lance pouts, but pulls off his outfit anyways, twisting and pulling the threads of magic from his body with a hand until the illusion falls away and he’s left in his usual jeans and green jacket. Beside him, Hunk does the same, though it takes him almost twice as long to peel off the sticky camouflage.

 

They pass up a small group of young teens on the sidewalk a moment later, silently pulling ahead as the group chatters and laughs. Lance waits until they’re far behind them before turning towards Allura.

 

“I couldn’t help it though, his thoughts were so loud.”

 

Hunk pats Lance on the shoulder sympathetically. “You totally thought he was hot, Lance. I saw the look on your face when you spotted him.”

 

Lance sputters as his face turns red, but it’s too late.

 

They’re right of course. That guy was so pretty, Lance just had to pick him. His long black bangs had obscured his eyes when he was standing in the crowd, but as soon as he climbed up onto the table and Lance got a closer look, he know he’d chosen the right person for the trick.

 

His eyes were pools of dark gray, with bright flecks of violet that made Lance want to lose himself in them forever.

 

But he’ll deny it forever.

 

“Aww, he’s blushing,” Allura coos. “You are totally right, Hunk. He’s thinking about him right now.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Allura and Hunk laugh loudly together, and after a moment, Lance joins in too, heart soaring in his chest.

 

Even when they eventually break off, Lance and Allura continuing inland while Hunk turns into his neighborhood, Lance still feels like he could fly away at any moment.

 

Allura notices his fantastic mood, but wisely chooses not to comment. Instead, they walk side-by-side towards the Altea Estate in silence, with only the quiet chirping of crickets breaking through the silence.

 

~

 

Shiro has to physically pull Keith out of bed in the morning, yanking the covers off of him with a cheery smile too bright for the time of the morning as he pulls him off of the bed and onto the floor.

 

“Time to get up, sleepyhead!” he says loudly. He’s already in his business attire, a sharp black suit that goes well with his jet-black hair and white front bangs.

 

Keith groans and mutters an unintelligible curse as he rubs his eyes. “Ugh, get out of my apartment,” he says bitterly, pulling his blankets over his cold body on the floor.

 

But Shiro’s having none of that. He rips the covers from Keith’s sleepy grip despite his protests and deposits them onto the bed, before turning and ripping open the curtains over the window next to it. Keith winces and squeezes his eyes shut, but no bright lights assault his eyelids. When he opens them and groggily turns towards the window, he sees that there’s only weak, watery light coming in, barely brighter than the interior of his room.

 

Shiro frowns a little at the lack of bright light, but quickly moves on. He flicks on the light in Keith’s room and grabs his bare ankle, tugging him towards the door. Keith just groans and struggles fruitlessly as his brother mercilessly drags him to the bathroom, where he drops his ankle.

 

“Come on, get going,” he says pleasantly. “We have to get going in about a half hour if we’re going to make it to the Galra Estate.”

 

“Ugh, let me sleep,” Keith mumbles around a yawn.

 

“You can sleep on the way. Now hurry up and shower, I’ll make you some breakfast.”

 

Keith slowly picks himself up from the floor, limbs heavy with sleepiness, and drags himself into the bathroom with his eyes closed. He’s tempted to just sit on the floor and keep sleeping, but just as the thought enters his head Shiro leans in.

 

“Don’t you dare try to go back to sleep,” he says sternly.

 

“Fine, whatever,” Keith says, shooing Shiro out of the bathroom. He closes the door and locks it with a heavy sigh, leaning against the wall tiredly.

 

After a few blissful moments of quiet and rest, Shiro bangs on the door loudly. “I better hear water within the next five minutes,” he yells.

 

Keith groans and leans away from the wall as he yawns. So much for rest.

 

He begrudgingly showers and changes(Shiro already had hung up his suit in the bathroom), which helps wake him up. His eyes still feel like drifting closed though, even when he steps out and gets a whiff of bacon coming from the kitchenette down the short hallway.

 

Shiro smiles at him and pushes a plate of bacon and eggs across the counter to him when he steps out of the hallway. “Hurry up and eat, we have to leave in less than five.”

 

When he’s done eating, Keith follows Shiro out of his apartment to where his car awaits. Shiro only grins when Keith climbs into the backseat and lays down immediately, wrinkling his suit.

 

Keith couldn’t care less, and he uses his jacket as a pillow, falling asleep soon after Shiro starts driving.

  


Keith wakes up when the car engine cuts off, and he slowly sits up with a yawn. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and slowly gets out of the car.

 

It’s much brighter now, but the air’s still cool and sharp in Keith’s lungs, the sun not yet strong enough to start baking the earth just yet. There isn’t a cloud in sight, either, and the blue sky just past the dark gray gates of the Galra Estate reminds him of what happened the previous night.

 

His memory of what happened, the trick, is crystal clear, but the events leading up to it and afterwards are just dark blurs. Keith can just barely remember a text from Shiro beforehand, and maybe running home after the show had ended, but that’s it. It’s like that magic show sucked all of his memory into it, as if to make sure he doesn’t forget that it happened.

 

“You okay?”

 

Keith jumps in surprise and turns. Shiro’s standing right next to him, watching him with a worried look on his face, eyebrows pulled down in concern.

 

“Just tired,” Keith replies, fixing his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles.

 

Shiro gets that look on his face that says he won’t press for now, and turns towards the Galra Estate. The huge mansion looms over them, mostly white but with dark purple accents that make it feel darker. Its sprawling design stretches it far to the sides and way back, and it’s surrounded by a dense forest. There must be at least four stories, and Keith feels a familiar pit form in his core at the sight of it.

 

“Alright. Let’s go then.”

 

Inside, the manor looks even bigger, with two spiral staircases to the right and left, and a giant, dark chandelier hanging high from the ceiling of the third floor. The entry room extends deep into the large building, where the dark theme only continues.

 

The pit in Keith’s stomach only grows as they enter and a guard shuts the door behind them. Normally, Keith’s only extremely uncomfortable with politics, but the Galra Estate always manages to make him doubly so, with its dark interior design. The guards and servants and maids all wear similar uniforms, black with purple accents and a touch of yellow at the cuffs, and they always behave as if they’re inferior to their employer, a large man by the name of Zarkon.

 

Keith can tell that Shiro’s much more uneasy at the Galra Estate, but he hides it well, the only visible cue that he’s not comfortable is in the way he touches the tips of his fingers to his thumb one at a time, index, middle, ring, pinky, then back. He only does it with his prosthetic hand, never the other, and when Lord Zarkon approaches from a nearby room, it stops entirely.

 

“Lord Zarkon,” Shiro greets with false kindness. “It’s a pleasure to be meeting with you again after such a long time.”

 

Lord Zarkon, dressed in a dark purple suit that matches the mansion’s theme, coolly regards Shiro, gaze halting at the prosthetic Shiro wears in place of his right arm, extend forward for a handshake. His eyes pass by Keith with disinterest, and he steps forward to shake Shiro’s hand firmly.

 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replies, eyes darkening as he looks Shiro in the eye. “Please accept my sincerest apologies over the loss of your arm, Mr. Shirogane. I heard about the accident, it’s truly a shame.”

 

Keith narrows his eyes at Zarkon’s indifferent tone. He’s clearly not very sorry about anything, and sounds more disappointed than anything. Yet Shiro smiles back with a warmth that never reaches his eyes and clasps his hands behind his back. His nervous tick picks back up.

 

“Yes, my recovery took much longer than anticipated, but I’m perfectly fine now.”

 

“That is excellent to hear, Mr. Shirogane. Let’s continue this discussion up in my office.” Zarkon glances over at Keith and he swears he sees the Lord’s upper lip curl in disgust for a moment, but it passes. “Your brother can play with my son while we talk.”

 

Keith can barely suppress his scowl of irritation at Zarkon’s dismissive tone.

 

‘Play with my son’?! _How much more condescending can you get?_ Shiro just nods and turns to Keith, pleading for him to go along with his eyes.

 

“Of course,” Keith replies in his least aggressive tone of voice, despite the deep urge to punch the Lord.

 

Zarkon is already turning away, and Shiro follows after a moment. “Introduce the boy to Lotor,” he says coldly to a servant passing by, who bows deeply as he walks by.

 

The servant rushes to comply with the Lord’s order as soon as he looks away, taking Keith by the arm and leading him into the mansion. She leads him down countless hallways and corridors that look completely identical to each other, then lets go of his arm to open a large door in the middle of one of the hallways, near a set of stairs. She pulls the heavy door open, then bows to Keith, keeping her head down as he reluctantly enters the room.

 

It’s a weight room, oddly enough, with a rack of free weights at the far corner and dozens of machines filling the rest of the square room.

 

And close to the free weights, is Lotor, Keith assumes. He’s tall, that’s for sure, with pale white-ish hair pulled back into a ponytail. When the door opens, he turns, and Keith has the feeling of being caught in a bear trap.

 

He stares at him sharply for a moment, eyes narrowing. After a moment, the glare is gone, and he smirks at Keith, eyeing him like prey. His gaze travels down his body, then back up again, taking his time.

 

“You must be Keith,” he says, walking over slowly. The way he moves is deliberate, intentional, and Keith suspects he wastes no energy in doing so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m terribly sorry I never got to introduce myself last time you were here.”

 

Keith nods stiffly. “It’s alright.”

 

“I insist! I was looking forward to becoming acquainted with you, but then there was your brother’s accident, and I never got the chance. It’s a shame.”

 

Keith feels himself tense at Lotor’s careless tone, and at the similar wording to Lord Zarkon’s.

 

“It was, but he’s fine now,” he says.

 

“Yes, but that must have been so traumatizing for you and him both. What a terrible thing to happen.”

 

Keith opens his mouth to reply, but Lotor keeps going, stepping past him out the door. “And now you’ve caught me at the worst time. You’ll have to excuse me while I go freshen up.” Lotor turns to a servant passing by and claps his hands twice. “Please escort Keith here up to the entertainment room. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

 

And then Lotor disappears into a nearby room, and the servant ushers Keith to the stairs before he can say anything.

 

~

 

Lance carefully runs through the sequence, arms rising and falling as his weight shifts on his feet. He moves around the room that way, a slow tide of movement and gentle turns. He focuses all of his mind on pulling magic through his hands as he dances, trying to ignore the way the end of his training outfit flutters close to his bare ankles. God, he hates this outfit.

 

He’d perfectly fine with wearing the Altean formalwear for magic practice if it didn’t have that stupid cape thing. It just wraps around his midsection awkwardly when he spins, drawing his attention away from the training itself.

 

_At least it’s blue._

 

“Concentrate,” his mentor says quietly.

 

Lance’s eyebrows scrunch up and he scowls as he moves his hands away from his body, completing the routine.

 

Nothing comes out but smoke.

 

“Do it again, but _feel_ it this time,” Allura orders after she watches Lance fail to perform the routine again. She steps forward and gestures with her hands as she continues. “Your abilities—your magic—is liquid. Do not grab onto it like something solid. Instead, you must feel where it is, and simply guide it towards where you wish for it to go.”

 

She steps forward and nudges Lance towards the edge of the empty room. Her arms raise and she performs the trick Lance was trying to do, but her movements are much more fluid and precise.

 

“Open up the proper channels and close those that are not necessary, and the magic will follow,” she explains as she finishes. Two streams of pure, pink magic flows from her hands as she extends them outwards, fluttering and shimmering like glittering ribbons of light.

 

She makes a few more motions with her arms, body weight shifting from one foot to the other, before she brings both hands towards her face, palms up and open. The magic follows, and both streams combine into one, flowing upwards and into her open mouth. She inhales the magic deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, then relaxes, dropping her hands and moving them behind her back.

 

“Like that.”

 

Lance scratches the back of his head. “But I don’t get how I’m supposed to _feel_ it, you know?”   


Allura frowns. “No, I do _not_ know. Magic comes not from the movements, but from the mind. You must feel your magic in the core of your being to manipulate it, otherwise you cannot bend it to your will. I have seen you perform freehand magic not just during your shows, and you show great potential.”

 

Lance looks down at his hands. _Great potential? It doesn’t feel like it._

 

“Thanks, but when I use my magic that way, I don’t really have to _feel_ anything. I just… do it.”

 

Allura’s frown deepens, and she looks away, muttering something to herself under her breath that Lance can’t catch. When she faces him again it’s with a focused expression, mouth set in a firm line.

 

“Alright then. Perform the trick again, but don’t follow the routine. Just find some way to draw out your core  magic in a concentrated stream.”

 

Lance moves to the center of the room and widens his stance, moving his upper body closer to the floor. Allura replaces his spot at the edge of the room.

 

“Remember, this is a highly advanced maneuver. You are not expected to be able to do this easily.”

 

Lance just nods. He knows.

 

His hands move to his waist, where they clench into tight fists by his side. He inhales deeply and squeezes his hands until they start to shake and blue smoke starts falling from them. When he exhales, it’s long and drawn out, and mist leaves his mouth to drift to the ground at his feet.

 

And then he dances, feet sliding over the floor as he spins and turns, never liftin. His hands fall into natural motions, smooth and graceful as he moves around the room. His eyes slide closed during this time, and even when his hands find his chest in an imitation of the routine, they remain shut.

 

His hands squeeze into smoking fists again, right above his heart, and when he slowly pulls them away, twin lines of blue magic follow. He doesn’t seem to notice, instead continuing to dance around the room with his eyes closed. The streams of magic follow his hands wherever they move, leaving thick trails of fog in their wake. Lance’s hands move to his chest again at some point, then quickly away, drawing two thin lines of magic from his chest that curl around the first pair.

 

Lance’ eyes drift open, and his movements freeze at the sight of the blue ribbons following his hands.

 

The trance-like state he’s working up falls in an instant as he gasps and marvels at the concentrated magic, dance completely abandoned even as his chest starts to tighten uncomfortably.

 

“Don’t stop!” Allura yells. “Finish the dance before you hurt yourself!”

 

But it’s too late.

 

Something wraps itself around Lance’s heart and squeezes cruelly, and he falls to his knees. A noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan of pain escapes his mouth as he falls forward onto his hands. The pain is crippling, needles stabbing him everywhere and the sharpest pain in his mind forcing a cry from his throat that makes everything hurt more.

 

His arms collapse beneath him, but he’s barely aware of what’s happening. All he can feel is the pain in his body and head, a ceaseless torrent of sharp, stabbing pain.

 

“Lance!”

 

Allura rushes forward and turns him onto his back, crouching beside his body like a medic. She mutters a curse under her breath that sounds very close to an actual hex, and pushes up the sleeves of her dress before reaching forward.

 

She grabs onto the streams of magic following Lance’s hands, hissing in pain but refusing to let go. Like living things, the magic wriggles in her grasp and struggles, trying to get away, but she holds on tight, ripping them away from her student’s hands. With Lance’s pure magic in her hands, she moves them towards Lance’s face, wrestling them closer despite how hard the magic tries to get away.

 

With a grunt of exertion, Allura forces the base of the streams into Lance’s mouth, ignoring his ragged breathing and the soft whines of pain that escape his lips.

 

There’s a loud hiss as the magic gets sucked back into Lance’s mouth, and blue smoke pours from his nose and mouth like dry ice. Allura lets go quickly before the magic pulls her in too, and she sits back on her heels with a sigh, hands burning.

 

Lance is still for a few long moments after the magic reenters his body, but then suddenly he inhales sharply and sits up. His breathing is uneven and stuttering, but he’s alive, clutching at his chest and shuddering as his magic disperses itself throughout his body.

 

For the next few minutes, all that can be heard is Lance’s breathing and the faint hiss of magical residue burning Allura’s flesh. Smoke pours relentlessly from his nose and mouth, pooling around his legs like liquid water.

 

When Allura decides Lance has recovered sufficiently enough, she stands and looms over him, eyebrows furrowed.

 

“Lance, do you know how close you just were to dying?” she asks, and Lance winces at the threatening note in her voice.

 

“Pretty close?” he guesses as he tries to stand. His legs don’t want to cooperate, but he tries anyways, giving up after a few failed attempts. He can’t quite get the feeling of his heart having the life squeezed out of it from his head, and when he moves, his body doesn’t feel like his own.

 

Allura’s expression softens then, and she squats down so that they’re eye to eye.

 

“Lance, if it had taken me any longer to put your magic back inside your body, you probably would have died,” she says. “I had to physically reinstate your magic back into your system.”

 

“Physically?”

 

Allura shows her hands to Lance, palms and fingers covered in a thin layer of blue magic. Even as Lance peers closely at it, he sees the magic eat away at his mentor’s flesh, and it hisses as it corrodes her skin.

 

“Woah,” he whispers, reaching forward. “Here, I’ll take it back.”

 

Allura moves her hands out of his reach with a frown. “No, Lance. You are in no condition to be using magic. Your body needs time to readjust to your magic. Stay here and take a moment to rest.”

 

“But your hands,” Lance protests.

 

“My hands will be fine. I will go to Coran, and he will properly dispose of the residue and heal them. You will rest.”

 

Lance sighs in defeat. When Allura wants something, there’s not much he can do to stop her.

 

He repositions himself so that he’s laying on his back, facing the high ceiling of the training room. His smoke crowds around his body so it looks like he’s lying in a pool of wispy water. Allura makes to leave, but pauses in the doorway and turns back to Lance.

 

“Under no circumstances are you permitted to use your magic,” she affirms. “I will be back momentarily.”

 

And then she sweeps out of the room, leaving her student to recover.

 

Lance stares blankly up at the ceiling and tries to shake the heart-clenching feeling from his head, but he can’t. The agonizing pins and needles and the sharp pain in the back of his head have all but disappeared, but their ghosts still linger just beneath his skin, like they could come back at any time. He tries to breathe deeply—maybe using his lungs to their full extent will help ease the discomfort?—but all he succeeds in is blowing out more blue smoke.

 

His limbs feel disconnected even as he lifts a hand to look at it and make sure it’s really his. It looks like his hand, long, tapered fingers and tanned skin, but they’re coated in a thin sheen of sweat and glittery blue magic that’s almost imperceptible. He lowers his hand.

 

Lance can’t get over the feeling of imminent doom that had hovered over his head like the grim reaper, watching and waiting while he’d suffered and collapsed. It had sneered down at him with a cruel grin on its face, laughing as his senses were overloaded with pain.

 

Ironically enough, he feels like he had been drowning.

 

~

 

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Lotor says smoothly as he walks into the entertainment room where Keith waits. The room itself is fairly small, considering the size of the estate as a whole, with just a couch, a couple of plush chairs, and a large flatscreen tv, with a large collection of games and movies. Keith sits on one of the velvet-covered chairs, having examined the room for a few minutes before becoming bored and sitting.

 

Lotor smiles down at Keith as he moves to sit on one end of the leather couch, choosing the end closest to where Keith’s seat is. He’s changed into a suit identical to his father’s, but without the jacket.

 

“It’s fine, really,” Keith says politely.

 

“Nonsense! I was aware you were coming, yet continued with my usual routine anyways.”

 

Keith’s eyebrows raise. “You knew I was going to be here today?” he asks, shifting around uncomfortably in the seat.

 

Lotor’s smile widens, but not in a good way. “Of course. Galra Industries may be owned and managed by my father, but I make it my business to know who’s coming and going from the manor at all times, even servants.”

 

Keith can’t help but scoff at that. “Do you even know any of your servants’ names?” he blurts without thinking. He cringes at his slip of tongue, but Lotor only throws his head back and laughs. It doesn’t sound at all genuine.

 

“I must admit, I don’t know any of their names,” he says, looking almost guilty. “But there’s no need for me to know anything about them, as long as they know their place and obey their superiors,” he continues, waving a hand dismissively.

 

“Um, right.”

 

Lotor suddenly leans over the arm of the couch towards Keith, smirking. “Do _you_ know the names of all your servants?”

 

“I—I don’t have servants,” Keith replies, wincing internally when Lotor’s eyes widen in surprise.

 

“But your brother’s company is so wealthy? Does he not share it with you?”

 

Keith scowls at the implications behind Lotor’s words and glares. “I provide for myself, Lotor. I don’t need my brother to coddle me through adulthood like a spoiled brat!”

 

He takes a great amount of pride in the way Lotor’s smirk falls off of his face at the implications behind his words. For the first time since meeting him, Keith feels like the one in control.

 

The door to the entertainment room opens and a servant steps in, bowing meekly.

 

“Mr. Shirogane’s meeting has ended, and he’s requested Keith,” he says softly, still bent forward.

 

Keith stands and walks towards the door confidently, refusing to look back at Lotor.

 

“Good. I was just finishing up here.”

 

He leaves the entertainment room with his head held high, ignoring whatever bullshit Lotor spews to try and delay his leave. He follows the servant back through more identical hallways, down a flight of stairs, and finally, to the main entrance, where Shiro waits impatiently.

 

When Shiro spots his brother, he perks up instantly, and they leave the manor without another word. The last thing Keith sees when he glances back is the guard at the door, face carefully blank.

 

In the car, the brothers both let out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing. Shiro wastes no time starting the car and leaving the estate as quickly as he can without seeming weird, and they breathe easier once they pass through the gates.

 

“So, how was Zarkon’s son?” Shiro asks as he pulls onto the highway.

 

Keith scowls bitterly. “He’s as big a prick as his father. How was your meeting?”

 

Shiro frowns and his hands clench around the steering wheel.

 

“It went about as well as I expected. Zarkon won’t grant me any more access to his mines because we’re technically competitors, and things got heated. I think I just burned that bridge, so now I have to find another supplier or the company will go under.”

 

Keith snorts. “You got rid of a leech, that’s what you did,” he says darkly. “Galra Industries was eating up all your hard-earned money just for a few crystals. You should go to the actual mining company and cut them a deal or something.”

 

Shiro hesitates and glances over at his younger brother.

 

“You think so? They work with Galra Industries; Zarkon’s been trying to buy them out for years.”

 

“Exactly. They’ll probably jump at the chance to work with someone who isn’t a shitbag like Zarkon and his creepy brat.”

 

Shiro hums thoughtfully as he considers the idea.

 

“You know, that might actually be a good idea.”

 

“I’m full of them,” Keith deadpans.

 

They both laugh for a long moment. “Really though, why didn’t you go into business with me? You’re smart.”

 

“As much as I like to sit through meetings in uncomfortable suits, there are other things I’d rather be doing, Shiro. Especially if don’t have to interact with condescending assholes on a regular basis and try to do business with them.”

 

“You make it sound so bad when you put it like that.”

 

“Am I wrong?”

 

“Fine, you win this one.”

 

“Hah!”

 

The brothers laugh, and when silence falls in the car, it’s loose and comfortable. They ride in silence for almost an hour, before Shiro speaks up.

 

“So, what was up with you earlier?” he asks hesitantly, deliberately keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.

 

“I was just thinking,” Keith says vaguely. He’s not sure he wants to share what went down the previous night, though when he thinks about his shitty reasons not to, they just sound kinda stupid.

 

“Of… ?”

 

“I just saw something weird last night when I was out on my walk.”

 

“What was it?”

 

“Just some weird magic show on the boardwalk, that’s it. There was a pretty big crowd, even though it was almost midnight, and one of the streetlights was on, too, but they’re scheduled to turn off at ten or something.”

 

Shiro blinks in surprise, but still doesn’t turn towards Keith. “So why were you thinking of that when you got out of the car?”

 

“One of the performers—magicians—had on a bunch of blue face paint, and the sky reminded me of him.” Keith makes sure he’s facing his window as he speaks just in case he blushes.

 

Shiro turns to look at him, and even though Keith can’t see his face, he swears he can hear the gears turning in his head. He looks back at the road a moment later though, and Keith relaxes.

 

“So you went to a magic show on the boardwalk in the middle of the night, saw that one of the magicians had on blue face paint, and then got reminded of him today because the sky is also blue?” Shiro’s tone is mild—an intentional move, no doubt—but he can’t hide his disbelief.

 

“.... yeah,” Keith lamely replies. _Shit, it sounds so stupid when he says it like that._

 

Shiro only hums thoughtfully. There are a few moments of blissful silence, and Keith thinks that maybe Shiro will let this one go.

 

He’s wrong.

 

“So was he cute?”

 

Keith chokes on air. He coughs painfully and Shiro pats him on the back with one hand, but he’s grinning cheekily now, like he knows something Keith doesn’t. Keith, unfortunately, recovers enough to hear what his brother says a moment later.

 

_Oh no._

 

“I take it that’s a yes, then?”

 

“No! Well, yeah, but that’s not the point, Shiro.”

 

“What _is_ the point, then?”

 

“The point is that’s why I was quiet earlier.”

 

“Because he was cute?”

 

Keith sputters at his mistake. “No! It was because of his face paint. It was blue, blue like the sky, Shiro!”

 

Shiro’s eyebrows raise to his hairline.

 

“But he _was_ cute, right? I need you to confirm that for me again.”

 

_“Shiro, you’re straight!”_

 

“And you’re not, Keith. So if you see a cute magician with sky blue face paint at a magic show in the middle of the night, I want to know. I’m your brother.”

 

“I’m denouncing you.”

 

“Fine, then, as a friend. Was he cute?”  


Keith makes a frustrated noise and raises his arms in a pleading manner towards the sky. “Yes, okay?! He was really cute and he fucking levitated me onto a table twenty feet away.”

 

Shiro’s eyebrows raise higher, if possible, and his mouth opens into an ‘o’ shape. Some higher power must have been listening to the wordless prayer Keith sent out, because Shiro doesn’t tease him over his use of adverbs.

 

“He _levitated you onto a table twenty feet away?_ ”

 

“Yeah? It was a magic show, hence the ‘magic’.”

 

“And how did that happen?”

 

“He was taking volunteers and… I volunteered.”

 

“You.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You volunteered to participate in a magic trick because one of the magicians was cute?”

 

“I didn’t think he’d actually pick _me_!”

 

“But you did volunteer because he was cute?”

 

 _Shit_.

 

“I’m done with you.”

 

Shiro laughs for a long time while Keith glares out his window. “So when’s the next show? We’re going, right?”

 

“We?”

 

“Yeah! I just gotta meet this cute magician, especially if he made you volunteer for something willingly.”

 

Keith feigns confusion, and shrugs. “I dunno,” he says. “It’s slipped my mind.”

 

Shiro takes the bait. “What? Come on, Keith, I know you remember.”

 

“I’m tellin’ you, Shiro,” Keith says with a cheeky grin. “I must’ve just forgotten.”

 

Shiro scowls and glares over at Keith with mock anger. “Come on, tell me. Please?”

 

“Who’s the greatest of all time?”

 

Shiro sighs deeply. “You.”

 

“And who’s not going to bring up any magicians with blue face paint using the word cute?”

 

Another sigh. “Me.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Keith replies smugly. “And it’s every Thursday, eleven to midnight.”

 

“Huh. I could do that. I’ll just have to schedule my weekly meeting so that it’s not so early Friday.”

 

“You’re not going, Shiro.”

 

“Why not? A cute gu—sorry, a _magician_ levitated you twenty feet in the air. I have to see a show.”

 

Keith cringes at the thought of his brother attending a magic show. He’d probably do tons of shit to embarrass him, or something equally terrible.

 

“What if someone recognizes you?”

 

“What, is it so weird for a young, handsome millionaire such as myself to go to a magic show in the middle of the night?”

 

Keith scoffs. “Seriously though, everybody in town knows who you are. Someone’s bound to recognize you.”

 

“I’ll wear a disguise, it’ll be fine.”

 

“Yeah, then you’ll do something stupid like volunteer for a trick and then everybody’s going to recognize you.”

 

“Volunteering for a magic trick is stupid now?”  


“Ugh, you’re terrible!”

 


	2. Ignorance to Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of stuff happens.
> 
> also tags have been updated to accommodate the changes I'm making to what I currently have written :/

Lance spends the rest of Friday and the entirety of Saturday stuck in bed while his body recovers, only allowed to leave to shower and eat. It’s mind-numbingly boring, and only Coran and Allura visit for a few hours before they get sucked back into their work and Lance has to entertain himself without his magic.

 

His room in the infirmary is dreadfully boring without his magic to spice things up. There’s just a bookshelf to his left full of modernized Altean works, and to his right is the clinical white counter that houses all the medical equipment (past and most likely future) Lance has had to use due to some accident or another.

 

The opposite wall doesn’t even have a picture or anything, even though Lance knows that there’s probably hundreds of Altean paintings gathering dust in the castle’s storage. And then there’s Lance, stuck in his bed with the dark blue comforter and the empty blue vase on the bedside table to his right.

 

The room, though familiar, does nothing to comfort Lance about this particular incident. He just has to do something soon, or he’ll go crazy.

 

When Lance woke up on Saturday, he felt perfectly fine and normal, but Allura and Coran insisted he stay in bed just in case, and to not try to use his magic just yet. The urge to just do something with his magic but being forced to restrain himself made Lance slightly lightheaded, like he was holding his breath underwater for too long. He didn’t bring it up with his mentor or her advisor though; they’d just try to keep him in bed for longer or something.

 

It also doesn’t help that he keeps huffing out blue clouds on every exhale, covering the white tile floor in a pale blue mist that reaches up to the second shelf on the bookcase. Allura is sure that it’s his magic recycling itself back into his system, and when Lance questioned her, she went on to lecture him about the fundamentals of magic almost as long as one of Coran’s stories.

 

He gave up thinking about it too much after that.

 

But now, Lance is going to sneak out and hang out with Hunk and Pidge at the farmer’s market today, and maybe try to convince Pidge to join in on one of his magic shows, because her technological prowess is totally going to waste in her apartment writing up programs for big companies.

 

Lance digs through the cabinets for one of many surgical masks, grabbing one from a  box in the back of the last cabinet, the leftovers of an incident that left Lance coughing for weeks on end. He pulls the mask on and fiddles with it until no smoke leaves his mouth when he breathes out.

 

He sends Hunk a quick text saying he’s leaving now, then pockets his phone and quietly exits the room like that’ll really make a difference.

 

He first pokes his head out the doorway, checking to make sure the open hallway is truly empty before fully leaving the room. The door clicks shut with minimal loss of foggy smoke, and Lance waves his hands wildly in a vague attempt to disperse the magic.

 

When he’s done, he darts across the hallway, clearing the tall railing and falling into the bright green bushes of the courtyard easily.

 

The courtyard itself is square in shape, with a tall statue of Allura’s dad in the center. Allura insists of having a gravel path from the statue to the intended entrance to the courtyard, but she leaves the rest of it to grow naturally, only occasionally doing some weeding or planting a new patch of flowers or vegetables.

 

The result is a perfect shortcut for Lance to bypass about four different hallways to leave the estate. Fortunately, he uses this shortcut infrequently enough that he’s sure Allura and Coran don’t suspect a thing.

 

Lance crawls his way under a hidden gap in the thick bush easily, squashing his long legs underneath him so that he can move a bit easier. He follows the line of bushes around the courtyard, using the tall grass and overgrown plants to hide his movements from the view of anyone in the hallway surrounding it.

 

After that, it’s pretty easy going; all Lance has to do is check the halls before he climbs back over the railing and darts into an old meeting room he knows nobody uses anymore. He’s off of castle grounds within ten minutes, and he wrestles his bike out from behind stubborn brambles so he can bike down to the market.

 

He opens a call to Pidge when he starts biking down the sidewalk, and she picks up before the end of the first ring, like always.

 

“You better hurry, Lance,” she says in a vaguely threatening tone. “Shay’s stall is gonna be out of the good honey, and I’m not sharing like last time.”

 

“C’mon Pidge, just get me a couple bottles, I’ll pay you back as soon as I get there.”

 

Pidge just tsks disappointingly, and Lance just knows she’s shaking her head in mock disapproval. “No can do, man. I need to get to that amazing salsa guy all the way at the end before he closes up, sorry.”

 

Click.

 

Lance groans into the dead line and pockets his phone, picking himself up off the bike so he can pedal harder. There’s just no way he’s not getting his hands on Shay’s amazing honey before she runs out of stock.

 

Altea’s farmer’s markets are typically very large, taking up almost the entirety of the parking lot in front of one of the public buildings every other Sunday. Huge varieties of locally grown foods and the products of local businesses all fill up their own designated spots, displaying various foods and items for sale.

 

What started from the city’s founder as a way to support local farms grew into a very popular tradition, and just only recently were local businesses allowed to sell their goods here.

 

Today’s farmer’s market is no different, with seller after seller lined up next to each other to create a zigzag pattern from one corner of the parking lot to the other. A wide array of colored canopy tents fill the parking lot, and there’s no shortage of people shopping.

 

Lance clips his bike to a nearby stop sign before all-out bolting across the empty street towards the market. He dodges impatiently around large clumps of shoppers as he makes his way through the zigzag, desperate to get to Shay’s stall two-thirds of the way through.

 

His wallet and phone almost fall out of his pocket when he accidentally bumps into an older lady. He can only mumble his apologies after steadying her before he’s off again.

 

Lance rounds a corner, and there it is, way at the other end of the zigzag, a rich brown canopy proudly showcasing Shay’s brand of products. Lance feels like he could weep with joy just at the sight of it, but he can’t, not until he has a bottle of Shay’s delicious honey in his hands.

 

He tries to pick up his pace even more, but that just makes it harder and harder for him to dodge the other shoppers meandering about. Still, he does it anyways, barely able to keep his mask in place as he runs straight for the stall.

 

In hindsight, running into a busy stall with a large amount of products Lance knows Shay worked hard to make is a terrible idea.

 

Luckily for Lance, he’s spared the prospect of accidentally knocking something or someone over in the stall because he does it a moment later, distracted by thoughts of Shay’s honey.

 

He’s focusing on the stall still twenty yards away when he runs straight into someone walking the opposite direction whose hands are full of multiple bags. All Lance registers is black hair and a pale face before suddenly he’s falling forward with an oof.

 

Perhaps Lance is lucky in what happens next, because he barely manages not to crush the poor soul he’s run into, and instead just scrapes his forearms really painfully on the rough parking lot ground. Or maybe not, because he feels his mask get pulled down from his lower face as he lands painfully.

 

Instantly, alarms go off in his head, and a surge of panic bubbles up in his throat that he tries to push down with little success. Then he looks down at the person between his arms that he’s currently on top of, and the alarms become about twenty times louder when he sees who he’s run over.

 

It’s Keith, from Lance’s last magic show, only this time his eyes are glazing over as he inhales Lance’s smoke with long, deep breaths. He stares into Lance’s eyes with an unfocused gaze, unblinking even as Lance scrambles to pull up his mask.

 

 _Oh fuck_ , Lance thinks belatedly.

 

~

 

Keith really likes the farmer’s market in Altea. It’s a bit further away from his apartment than he really likes, but it’s a nice change from sitting at his desk all day, and the sun feels nice on his face as he walks. Shiro can’t make it this time, due to a last-second meeting with his board, so Keith has to buy extra for him.

 

This means he takes almost twice as long to get through the whole market, but he’s made good progress on his latest commission, so he figures he can take the extra time to walk a bit slower.

 

Me: I’m just finishing up, I’ll drop off your stuff in your apartment when I’m done

 

Shiro: Thanks. You know where the spare key is right?

 

Me: I stole one of your copies last week

 

Shiro: …

 

Keith smirks down at his phone; he’s definitely gonna get a lecture when he sees Shiro later, but right now it’s worth it just to make him speechless. He adjusts his grip on the bags in his free hand, slowing down to jam his phone into the pocket of his jeans. Right now, he’s carrying six or seven bags of groceries and various products as he navigates back through the market.

 

He’s so busy doing his own thing that he fails to see the figure sprinting towards him until it’s too late.

 

Keith falls straight onto his back as the person practically tackles him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs and making him drop his bags to the ground.

 

He looks up, and finds himself nose to nose with Lance, from the boardwalk the other night. His arms frame Keith’s head, and in his eyes is a wild panic. Keith barely registers that he was wearing some sort of medical mask that had gotten knocked down before he inhales a shuddering breath to try and fix his breathing.

 

Instead of inhaling air, Keith takes in a huge lungful of dense blue smoke that escapes Lance’s open mouth.

 

_Oh, it’s kinda nice._

 

He vaguely thinks that he should be freaking out about the smoke that falls from Lance’s mouth every time he exhales, but Keith’s way deep in his own head right now, and thinking kinda hurts. So he doesn’t think, just keeps breathing in that weirdly nice smoke until he’s not really sure whether or not his eyes are actually looking at anything anymore.

 

But whatever, it’s fine. The smoke is not borne from cigarettes or weed, but something entirely unique. It almost feels like Keith is inhaling water vapor, but it sticks to his lungs and mouth and there’s something else there, just below the surface, that compels him to keep taking it in.

 

So he does, or at least tries to, until Lance scrambles to pull the mask back up to cover that water-smoke and Keith can breathe the fresh Altean air. He distantly notices that he feels disappointed, but he has no time to think about it for any longer, because Lance is standing up now, offering Keith a hand to help him up.

 

He takes it before he can really think, but that’s fine, because thinking is still hard to do, and there’s this weird pain in Keith’s lungs now, like he’s suddenly drowning in the light breeze.

 

Lance pulls him to his feet, swiping dust from his shoulders and replacing his bags in his hands as he glances around nervously. He’s saying something to Keith, but Keith can’t really tell what he’s saying; right now everything that comes in his ears just sounds garbled, like he’s underwater. He looks worried though, squinting at Keith as he runs a hand through his hair.

 

The distress is not a good look on him.

 

Lance stops speaking then, and grabs Keith by the arm. He gently starts tugging Keith back through the market at a brisk pace, using his free hand to fish a dark orange phone from his pocket. All Keith can do is follow along numbly, stumbling over his own feet every now and then as they zigzag back and forth. Lance has his phone to his ear, speaking rapidly from the way his mask moves, but Keith still can’t hear it, can’t really hear anything now.

 

He’s also struggling to get his eyes to focus on anything, and he feels like he’s watching himself be led from the farmer’s market by Lance, but that image is blurred too, warping and distorting like a curved mirror.

 

Lance stops Keith at a crosswalk and they wait for what feels like two seconds before setting out again. They don’t turn down the sidewalk, though. Lance keeps going, stepping out onto the grass towards a green and brown smudge that’s probably the wooded area across the parking lot.

 

When they finally stop, deep into that blurry area, Keith can’t feel his legs anymore, or his arms for that matter.

 

Lance removes his bags he forgot he was carrying and sets them on the ground before gently guiding Keith to the ground too, positioning him so that he’s sitting up, leaning against what’s most likely a tree. He pulls down his mask and huffs out a thick cloud of blue to the side, then crouches down in front of Keith to say something to him.

 

Keith registers no sound, and from his lack of reaction, Lance realizes this too.

 

He stands up and exhales another cloud, thinner this time, then moves a few feet away from Keith.

 

Keith blinks, slowly, and when he opens his eyes, there’s another person with Lance, a tall patch of white with dark brown and more white at the top. The new person kneels beside Keith and grabs his jaw, turning his head and peering closely at him.

 

This new person doesn’t seem to like what they see, because they turn back to Lance and raise their arms angrily before turning back to Keith.

 

The new person steps back from Keith and raises their hands, making motions Keith can’t follow at all before stepping close again. The new person raises their hand towards Keith, now covered in pink, and presses down against his chest firmly, but Keith feels nothing.

 

The new person seems to realize this, because they remove their hand a moment later and move away.

 

Keith’s eyes close on their own accord; keeping them open is too tiring, and that pain in his lungs is taking away  all of his energy.

 

As soon as his eyes close, the world seems to drift away, until it’s just Keith and that feeling of drowning.

 

Is he even conscious? The question seems too difficult to ponder when it feels like all he’s ever known is that feeling of drowning.

 

But, after what feels like an eternity and no time at all, even that feeling gradually fades, and then it’s just Keith by himself. Thinking still requires some effort, but now it’s because Keith feels suddenly exhausted. His brain is too tired to formulate coherent thoughts, and his train of thought stops and starts erratically.

 

Keith blacks out for real a few seconds later, but just as he’s drifting into unconsciousness, he swears that for just a moment, he hears a voice that’s not his own, whispering something in his head.

 

_We are fire now._

 

Keith wakes up slowly, and in a bed that is definitely not his own.

 

He blinks and sits up, rubbing at his eyes as he looks around. The room he’s in is all white, from the blankets covering him to the bookshelf on his left and the counter on his right. It smells almost like a hospital but not quite, some sort of clinical smell that’s reminiscent of an emergency room but with hints of normal smells, like food.

 

“Hey, you’re finally up,” someone says.

 

Keith turns to the source of the voice, a small girl with light brown hair sitting in a chair near the door. She’s wearing a light green shirt with round wire glasses tucked into the collar, and when she stands, Keith sees she’s wearing long shorts that look suspiciously like basketball shorts.

 

“Lance and the others will be back soon,” she says nonchalantly, moving so that she’s standing next to the bed. “So, how’re you feeling, Keith? You got fucked up pretty good.”

 

“How do you know my name?” Keith asks, shifting so that he’s leaning comfortably against the back wall.

 

“Lance told me. I’m Pidge, by the way.” She sticks out a tiny hand, which Keith shakes reluctantly.

 

“Pidge?”

 

“It’s a nickname, don’t worry. So how do you feel?”

 

“I—” Keith looks down at his hands. They look like his, and move whenever he wants them to. But when he inhales, something hot in his lungs flares to life, and he suddenly feels like he’s not alone in his head anymore. “I feel fine.”

 

Pidge narrows her eyes at his hesitation, pursing her lips, but she doesn’t get the chance to reply because the door slams open suddenly to reveal Lance, looking slightly disheveled. Keith notes the bags under his eyes.

 

“You’re awake!” he yells excitedly. Beside Keith, Pidge rolls her eyes.

 

“Alright, you can take over then. I gotta go help Hunk with that uh… that thing. Yeah.” Pidge scoots around Lance and leaves without another word, casting one sympathetic look back at Keith before disappearing into the hallway. Keith manages to catch a glimpse of bright green before the door shuts and it’s just him and Lance in the room.

 

“How do you feel?” Lance asks, sidling up into the space Pidge had just occupied. His tone is relaxed, but his shoulders are tensed and he avoids looking Keith in the eyes when he asks. He’s still wearing the mask, and he looks to be in the same clothes as before: blue jeans and a green jacket. But he keeps his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

 

_Is he nervous?_

 

“I feel fine,” Keith repeats.

 

Lance’s eyes narrow immediately and he seems to get over his nerves, leaning closer to Keith. “That’s a lie.”

 

Keith feels himself bristle at the accusation, and he glares up at Lance.

 

“What are you, a mind reader now too?” he retorts sharply.

 

“No! I could feel it, Keith. You’re lying.” Lance’s hands move to his hips and he leans even closer to Keith. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Keith leans right back until they’re literally butting foreheads, and his hands clench into fists by his side. “Like hell I do, you’re not my doctor.”

 

“Hey, what’s going on?”

 

Keith has probably never been more surprised and relieved to hear his brother’s voice before. Shiro pulls Lance back, who raises his arms in a “fight me” gesture before stepping back himself and turning away.

 

“Nothing,” Keith says petulantly, turning away with a stubborn huff before he remembers that Shiro’s actually here. “Wait, why are you here? And where am I?”

 

Like Lance, Shiro has bags under his eyes, and he frowns down at Keith before answering.

 

“There was an… incident at the farmer’s market, and you were brought to the Altea Estate to recover. It’s been almost three days.”

 

“When Lance ran me over? That’s hardly—wait, you said three days? I’ve been sleeping for three days?!”

 

Keith rubs his temple with one hand, thinking back to the farmer’s market. His memory is fuzzy at best, but he knows that Lance ran him over, and he was breathing out blue smoke that Keith had inhaled. After that, everything’s a vague blur, but it still doesn’t feel like it happened _three days_ ago.

 

“You weren’t completely asleep,” Lance pipes in. “You woke up in the middle of the second day because of… um… stuff.”

 

Keith whips his head up to glare at Lance, lifting a finger to point at him. “You! You ran me over.” Lance looks away guiltily, and Keith doesn’t miss the way he shuffles back ever so slightly, shoulders hunching. He doesn’t care though, because now he’s mad, and he wants answers.

 

The heat in his lungs seem to increase with every breath he takes in, until it’s a raging inferno of red-hot fire, begging to be set free.

 

Lance’s eyes widen and he takes a long step back, pulling Shiro away with him. Keith briefly wonders why, until he catches smoke in his peripheral vision.

 

When he looks down, his hands are in flames, clenched tightly by his sides and an unnaturally bright red. They don’t burn the comforter or his clothes, but he feels the heat in them just as intensely.

 

And that’s the last thing Keith sees before he passes out.

 

He wakes up again to a dark room, and just like last time, he’s not alone.

 

Lance has moved the chair by the door to Keith’s right, and he’s leaning over with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes are closed tightly, but they open as soon as Keith moves to sit up, and Keith swears that they’re glowing in the dark.

 

“What time is it?”

 

Lance makes no move to check the time when he answers, “Almost two in the morning.” He yawns, or at least, Keith thinks he yawns, and stands to stretch. “Do you want something to eat?”

 

“Yeah.” When Keith moves to throw off his blankets and stand, Lance holds his hand out in a ‘stop’ gesture.

 

“I got it, you stay,” he says, prompting a scowl from Keith.

 

“I’ve been asleep for three days, I think I’m fine,” Keith replies snarkily. The floor is cold underneath his bare feet, but he pushes himself off the bed anyways, because if there’s one thing he isn’t it’s dependent on other people.

 

His legs feel weak and wobbly, but he manages to stand well enough to glare over at Lance. Then Keith looks down at himself, and realizes that he’s not wearing the clothes he was wearing at the market. Instead of his usual red jacket and black pants, he’s wearing a one-piece suit thing that stops at his ankles and wrists. It’s mostly light gray, with white over the shoulders and dark gray wrapping around his sides, and it fits unusually well, almost like a second skin.

 

“What is this?” Keith picks at the strange fabric around his wrist.

 

“It’s a medsuit that monitors your health,” Lance explains coolly, watching Keith wobble his way over to the door on unsteady feet. “I found your phone and called your brother over, and he brought you over to the castle.”

 

“Castle?”

 

“The estate. Everyone just calls it the castle.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Keith steps out of the room onto an even colder floor, and pauses. Right across the hallway is a courtyard, a wide range of bushes and plants glowing from hidden fairy lights. In the dead of night, it looks like something from a fantasy novel, and the illuminated statue in the dead center only amplifies the feeling.

 

“You coming, hothead?” Lance asks. He’s already halfway down the hallway, looking back at Keith with a curious expression. “You can go into the courtyard later, if you want.”

 

Keith rips his gaze away from the peaceful scene and hurries after Lance until they’re walking side-by-side. He’s brimming with questions and it almost hurts to keep his curiosity at bay as they turn into another hallway. The halls themselves are a well-lit, but slightly dimmer, glowing blue lamps lining the walls on both sides.

 

“You can ask,” Lance says casually. His hands stretch high above his head before settling behind his neck, elbows high.

 

“How do you know I want to ask something?”

 

Lance barks out a short laugh. “I can feel it,” he answers simply. Keith gets the feeling that Lance won’t elaborate if he questions him, so he doesn’t.

 

“What happened at the market?”

 

Lance winces, like whatever events that happened have already ingrained themselves into his memory as bad, but he answers without hesitation. “I ran you over, and my mask got knocked loose. You inhaled my magic smoke, and had a… negative reaction, so I had to call Allura to fix you.” Lance’s voice lowers to almost a whisper then. “It was pretty bad.”

 

Keith’s head is already swimming with the information Lance just dumped on him, and it must show on his face because Lance brightens and rushes to explain.

 

“Uh, yeah, so magic exists, and I have it, and what you inhaled was some form of magic from my—from me.”

 

“... Right.”

 

“I’m serious,” Lance insists. “I can’t show you right now, but Allura and Coran can, and so can Hunk, if he stops by.”

 

“Who are they?”

 

“Allura owns the castle, and Coran is her advisor. Hunk is just my best friend.”

 

They enter a large kitchen, equipped with highly modernized appliances. There are multiple islands for food prep, and the stoves and fridges are inline with the right wall. Lance skips over to a fridge and peers inside. “What do you want?”

 

“What do you have?”

 

Lance scoffs and glances at Keith over his shoulder. “Everything. You know what, you look yourself, get anything you want.”

 

Keith feels awkward digging through a fridge that isn’t his own, but Lance just nudges him forward and moves back to an island close by, inspecting his fingernails.

 

Keith settles for making himself a sandwich, and Lance happily provides him with bread and utensils. When he finishes, they start back, but not after Lance grabs a juice pouch from the fridge. His legs feel stronger already with food in his stomach, and Keith lets himself walk just a little bit faster down the halls.

 

“So you have magic powers?”

 

Lance nods vigorously as he slips the straw of the juice pouch under his mask and sips loudly.

 

“And I inhaled some—” another nod “—and that somehow led to this Allura fixing me?”

 

Now that he says it, the name Allura sounds really familiar to Keith, but he can’t quite place it. It’s certainly not a common name, but he’s sure he’s heard it before.

 

“No, I did that,” Lance corrects when he’s done with his juice. “Allura was just there to tell me what I had to do.”

 

“How?” Keith scratches his head as he tries to process everything. “And why did my hands burst into flames earlier?”

 

Lance looks away, shoulders hunching ever so slightly. He’s quiet for a long moment before answering in a small voice.

 

“I used my magic to heal you, but I had to give you my magic to do it.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“And now you can use magic, you just have to learn how to control it ‘n stuff.”

 

“Right,” Keith deadpans. He can’t believe what’s happening, even with the proof sitting in his memory and the fire in his lungs. It’s too far out there, too bizarre for any rational person to believe. “I’m sure there’s a real reason why that happened.”

 

Lance’s hand clenches around his empty juice pouch, and Keith can tell without seeing his lower face that he’s scowling at him.

 

“That _is_ the real reason,” he argues stubbornly.

 

“Alright then, show me,” Keith dares, stopping to turn and glare more fully at Lance, who returns it full-force. Lance holds his gaze for several long moments, and Keith thinks he might actually do something, but then his shoulders deflate and he looks away with a sigh.

 

“I can’t, not right now,” is all he says. His arms move up to wrap around his midsection, and he looks so vulnerable that Keith has to avert his gaze.

 

Keith lets out an irritated noise and starts walking again. “Whatever,” he grumbles. A few seconds pass before he hears footsteps behind him, and he doesn’t turn when Lance catches up to him.

 

He pauses again when they reach the hall looking out over the courtyard, and Lance visibly brightens at the sight of the vegetation, and he runs ahead, pointing to a glowing pink bush growing against the railing.

 

“Here, look at this.”

 

Keith crouches down and peers closely at the bush. It does look a bit odd, but the light isn’t _that_ bright, so he probably just can’t see the wiring in the dense bush. Lance just groans when Keith tell him this, running a hand down his face in an exasperated manner.

 

“It’s clearly Allura’s magic,” he sputters, but Keith turns away with a smirk.

 

“I think you need to grow up a little, Lance,” he says with a chuckle. “Doing magic tricks is fine, and I get you have to keep up the illusion that it’s real, but we both know it’s not.”

 

“But it is real! How else could you light your hands on fire?”

 

Keith shrugs dismissively. “Friction, I don’t know. But I know that magic isn’t real.”

 

“Fine, I’ll prove it to you tomorrow.”

 

“Sure you will.”

 

“I will!”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Yeah!”

 

Keith opens the door to his room. “If you say so.”

 

“I do!”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“We’ll see,” Keith says, just before shutting the door in Lance’s face.

 

“We will!” is the muffled reply, and Keith can’t help but smile as he navigates over to the bed.

 

He falls asleep before his head hits the pillow, with no time to really consider everything Lance has told him.

 

~

 

Lance opens the door to Keith’s infirmary room and pokes his head in, squinting in the darkness at the lump under the blankets.

 

He slips into the room, making sure the door is mostly shut so as not to disturb Keith, and carefully makes his way over to the bed with his tray. He sets it down on the bedside table, then quietly makes his way out of the room, shutting the door gently behind himself.

 

“You must tell him,” Allura says from out of nowhere, and Lance jumps a foot in the air, heart skipping a beat at her unexpected presence. “And, you must tell him today, before his brother stops by to pick him up.”

 

“When is that?” Lance asks hesitantly, pulling his mask down to hang around his neck.

 

“Noon,” Allura cheerfully replies.

 

“But it’s eleven-thirty already!” Lance protests. “Won’t it be easier for his brother to be there too?”

 

Allura shakes her head firmly as she turns away to walk down the corridor, forcing Lance to rush and catch up. “I have given him all the information he needs for the time being. You need to find out whether or not Keith wishes to learn and use his magic, and to do that you must tell him everything.”

 

Lance puffs out a thick cloud as they walk. “But he doesn’t even believe in magic! He lit his hands on fire but still denied everything.”

 

Allura frowns speculatively, but she retains her brisk pace. “That is fine. When I finish with my meeting I will prove to him that it is real, but you are still forbidden from using your magic until it is completely recycled back into your system.”

 

“But—”

 

“Lance.” And there it is, the tone of warning and stubborn resolve.

 

Lance sighs, ignoring the stream of smoke that leaves his mouth.

 

“I would get going, if I were you,” Allura adds after a moment, grinning when Lance swears under his breath and turns to run back in the other direction.

 

Lance slams open the door to Keith’s room, flicking on the lights and rushing forward to the bed as he pulls his mask back up.

 

Keith slowly sits up and rubs at his eyes. Lance is already in motion, moving the tray of food from the bedside table onto Keith’s lap. He doesn’t seem to notice, instead examining his medsuit with a slight frown.

 

“How do I take this off?” he asks. “And where are my clothes?”

 

“Later, Keith. Just eat your breakfast, and hurry.” Lance gestures to the white tray in Keith’s lap.

 

Keith eyes the tray of food suspiciously for an agonizingly long time before he finally digs in, eating unbearably slowly.

 

Lance watches him eat with a frown, arms crossed and foot rapidly tapping away on the floor. When he finally finishes the food, Lance grabs the tray and gestures for him to get up and follow him.

 

“Holy crow, Keith, you’re like a snail,” he complains as Keith very slowly sips on his juice pouch.

 

Lance is already waiting in the hallway when Keith slowly finishes his juice, and Lance impatiently grabs Keith’s arm to drag him down the hall at a fast pace.

 

“There are important things you have to know,” Lance informs when they turn down a hallway. “And we don’t have much time before your brother comes to pick you up, so I’d appreciate it if you showed some urgency.”

 

Keith resists Lance’s dragging. “I can go?”

 

Lance groans in frustration and pulls on his arm harder.

 

“Yeah, in like an hour, Keith. But I have to tell you some things so you’re not in the dark about yourself, so let’s go.”

Keith eventually pulls himself from Lance’s grasp and moves to walk by his side.

 

“Fine, whatever.”

 

They reach the library soon after ascending a long staircase, and Lance pushes through the heavy tall doors confidently. He goes straight to the back, where Pidge sits at a table crowded by stacks and stacks of books.

 

She’s pretty deep into an ancient-looking tome that looks heavier than her body weight, but she glances up at Lance and Keith when they enter.

 

“Here, sit,” Lance directs, pushing Keith into the chair at the end of the table. Lance speed walks around to the other side and sits too, right next to Pidge. “Did you find the book?”

 

Pidge nods to a slim white book on top of one of the stacks, and Lance snatches it up, flipping through the last few pages until he reaches the colorful type page. He flattens down the wrinkled page and slides it over to Keith.

 

“Okay, so here’s the deal with magic,” Lance begins, leaning way over across the table so he can point at certain parts of the page. “This big circle in the middle is all the main types of magic. This is all general types, which is what most people have.”

 

“So you have general magic?” Keith asks skeptically.

 

“No, mine is much more specified. Anyways, people with general magic types can do practically any sequences from the entire circle, but they can’t do high-level routines or stuff like that. They’re basically all-rounders. That’s Hunk and Coran.”

 

“Uh huh. And what about you?”

 

Lance proudly points to a tiny blue circle on the bottom left corner of the page, close to the binding. It’s small enough that if he presses his finger to the page, he’d cover it completely. “This is where I am. I can’t do magic from any other circle but this one.”

 

“That sounds like a bad thing.”

 

Lance scowls over at Keith, who doesn’t look up from the page. He points to the corner diagonal from his, where another circle is located, this time red in color.

 

“Yeah? Well, if it makes you feel better, here’s where you are, Keith.”

 

Keith just hums his acknowledgement and looks closer at his circle.

 

“What is this supposed to tell me?” he asks irritatedly. “These are just colored dots on a page.”

 

Pidge snaps her book shut and drops it onto the table before moving over to Keith’s side of the table.

 

“You have to touch it,” she says, grabbing Keith’s hand and maneuvering it to the corner. Pidge looks up at Lance with a disappointed face. “That should be the first thing you tell him, Lance.”

 

“I’ve been having a few rough days,” Lance defends. Pidge’s expression softens, but she still tsks at him anyways.

 

When Keith presses his index finger to the page, a bubble of red light blossoms from his finger, and he pulls it away quickly. His finger still glows bright red, and he stares at it in wonder and awe as the glow spreads from his finger to the rest of his hand, and eventually to the rest of his body.

 

“Magic _is_ real,” he whispers fiercely.

 

“What?!” Lance yells. “That’s all it takes?!”

 

Pidge laughs at Lance’s frustration while Keith stands, looking at his arms and legs like they’re brand new. The red glow encompasses his entire body in red, even his hair, until Keith looks like a bright red sun crammed into the body of a young adult.

 

“Wow, a fire type,” Pidge muses thoughtfully as she moves to stand beside Lance, still sitting at the table. “That’s the complete opposite of your magic, Lance, I’m kinda impressed.”

 

“Thanks, Pidge,” Lance replies sarcastically.

 

The glow slowly recedes, until there’s only a faint reddish glow in the shape of Keith’s lungs, ending right when they join together in his throat. Keith pokes at it curiously.

 

“Why is this still here?”

 

“That’s your core, dude,” Pidge says. “That’s where all your magic comes from.” Pidge turns back to Lance and smiles. “Okay, now I’m fully impressed, Lance,” she praises warmly. “You really did a perfect job.”

 

“Thanks, Pidge.” This time the thanks is genuine, and Lance looks down at his hands with a small, private smile, hidden behind his mask. The compliment makes his heart feel just a little bit fuller, and he feels a tiny rush of pride under his happiness.

 

If Pidge, who knows almost as much as Allura and Coran about magic, thinks he did well, then Lance can let go of a teeny bit of guilt over the accident that led to all this.

 

“So what does this mean?” Keith asks as he sits back down. When he looks down at the types page it’s with sincere interest, and he looks over all the circles with fresh eyes.

 

“It means that you can do fucking magic!” Pidge exclaims excitedly. “Lance, why didn’t you run _me_ over at the farmer’s market?”

 

Lance grins at Pidge’s faux anger. “With your tech skills, you don’t even need magic.”

 

“Wait, you don’t have magic?” Keith asks, squinting at Pidge like he’s suddenly seeing something different about her.

 

“No, but I wish I did. Magic is so cool, you don’t even know. You think setting your hands on fire is cool, but just wait until you actually start training! You’ll be able to do so much unbelievable shit, it’s insane. Having such a specific type of magic means you’ll be able to learn so much more advanced things and—”

 

“Easy, Pidge,” Lance says, pulling his friend back when she starts leaning forward with that look in her eye. If she’s not interrupted before she gets into talking about something, she’ll go on for days on end, slowly devolving into mumbly gibberish that lasts until she exhausts herself. “He doesn’t have to learn if he doesn’t want to.”

 

“Are you kidding me? Of course I want to learn!”

 

“Well, that was easier than I thought it’d be.”

 

When Shiro comes by to pick up Keith, he’s bursting with energy, and he practically skips over to the car. Shiro and Allura speak to each other for a few minutes before they shake hands, smiling broadly at each other.

 

Lance watches the car leave the estate feeling like maybe he’ll be able to sleep tonight. His heart feels much less heavy knowing that Keith likes magic and wants to learn, but when Allura turns to him, it shrinks back down.

 

But Allura just smiles at Lance and claps him on the shoulder as she walks past, back into the castle.

 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? You didn’t need my assistance at all!”

 

“That’s only because I was there,” Pidge says.

 

“Hey, showing him the magic types was my idea!”

 

“You didn’t even tell him to touch his circle though. He’d never believe it if I wasn’t there to tell him to do that.”

 

Lance pulls down his mask and blows a weak puff of smoke at her face, barely blue at all, and smirks whenever she starts coughing and making grossed-out faces, fanning her face wildly.

 

They both start laughing a moment later, and when Pidge eventually leaves to go back to her apartment, arms full of books, she smiles up at Lance.

 

“Seriously, Lance,” she says at the door. “You made his life infinitely better.”

 

Lance smirks with faux arrogance. “I’m just such a good person, I know,” he brags.

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll be back tomorrow for more books.”

 

“See ‘ya later, Pidgey.”

 

“Later, Lance.”

 

Lance lies awake in his room through the entire night, and it’s only when he starts hearing birdsong through his window that he finally manages to fall asleep.

 

~

 

Keith frowns down at the half-finished commission on his tablet, smooth lineart just waiting to be colored.

 

The lines are sweeping and precise, thicker around the defining features of the figure in sci-fi gear, framed by a distant black hole tearing apart a sun. Keith taps the tablet pen against his desk, trying to find the motivation to finish the commissioned piece before he goes back to the Altea Estate tomorrow.

 

But his head is full of the things Pidge had babbled on and on about earlier, after he’d said he wanted to learn magic.

 

She’d gone on a long spiel despite Lance’s protests, ranting about all the various sequences and routines for certain things and how magic was the same for every user but completely different at the same time. Unfortunately, Shiro arrived at the castle only a few minutes later, so Lance had to cut her off and calm her down from her excitement.

 

And then Keith only had enough time to thank Allura for housing him while he recovered before Shiro stepped in and shooed Keith to the car so they could talk in private.

 

So to say that the last hour has been strange would be an understatement.

 

Keith can’t find it in himself to finish the commission right now because of it; he feels like he might be in some weird dream right now, but he knows it’s real.

 

Keith has magic now.

 

He’s still not sure how it happened exactly, Lance had been pretty vague about the whole thing, but he can just ask Allura when he goes back. He’ll have his first magic lesson tomorrow morning, with Allura and Coran, who he has yet to meet, mentoring him and testing his potential.

 

But right now, Keith has to finish this commission. For such a simple (relatively speaking) piece, his commissioner had been very adamant about when they wanted the piece to be done, and if Keith wants to be paid and make the deadline, he has to start adding color now.

 

Keith leans forward with a sigh and pulls up the color picker, adjusting the slider to give him a neutral gray. Then, he opens a new layer and gets to work, blocking in varying shades of gray in the figure and environment before moving up to actual color.

 

Even though he isn’t feeling it, the work still draws Keith into a trance-like state, and the meticulous details of the armor force him to forget about the day’s events and just work.

 

When he finally lets himself take a break, the sky is pitch black outside his window, and he’s managed to finish the central figure and most of the background. He makes himself a cup of coffee and chugs the whole thing as soon as it’s cool enough, before going back to his work room to finish the piece.

 

It’s almost three am when Keith sends over the finished artwork to his commissioner, dark red armor-clad figure floating in outer space, turned to face the black hole and sun.

 

Keith’s pretty proud of his work, and he knows his commissioner will appreciate it too. He likes the way the red figure is framed by the bright blue of the sun in the background, outlining the sharp and smooth edges of the armor and drawing attention directly to it.

 

When Keith drops into his sleep, hand still cramped and sore from the nonstop work, he falls asleep right away despite the caffeine running through his system.

 

Just before he falls asleep, he hears a whisper from somewhere inside his head, a voice that isn’t his own curling up in his lungs and burning brightly.

 

 _Soon_ , it hisses, low but not unfriendly.

 

And that’s the last thing Keith thinks of.

 

Keith watches Lance dance, feet sliding across the ground as smooth as water. He’s watching from afar as Lance spins and steps around the trees, arms stretching up and out and then back in towards his chest. It feels sort of like he’s watching something private happening, and smoke falls from Lance’s open mouth in a waterfall of motion as he slowly makes his way over to—to Keith?

 

But no, that can’t be him, because Keith is watching from someplace high up and far away as Lance glides across the forest floor, eyes closed but avoiding every tree and root with delicate precision.

 

He makes his way over to the figure slumped over against a tree, which—no, that _can’t_ be Keith, right?

 

But it is. Even from far away, Keith recognizes himself, his black hair and red jacket make himself unmistakable.

 

Keith watches as Lance’s hands move to his chest, shoulders hunching forward for a long moment before he pulls them away, drawing two glowing blue ribbons from his chest. Somehow, Keith knows it hurts him, knows it from the way he can see his arms shaking even at his distance, and the stuttering of his footsteps as he moves closer to Keith’s body.

 

The rivers of blue follow his hands as if drawn by bait, but when Lance splays his fingers out towards Keith’s body, they move past them, lengthening and coiling around Keith’s upper body like living things.

 

The ribbons— _magic_ , something whispers—tighten around Keith’s upper body before converging into one, and entering his open mouth.

 

Keith shudders as he watches the blue streams disappear into his mouth, making him convulse and flail as if he’s been possessed.

 

Allura steps up behind Lance and says something to him, trying to pull him away, but he isn’t done. He pulls himself from Allura’s gentle grasp with visible effort and stumbles forward.

 

Lance drops to his knees in front of Keith’s shuddering body and plants his hands on Keith’s shoulders, head bowing down. The smoke that leaves his mouth is gushing out in a violent torrent now, and Keith’s body stills the moment Lance touches him.

 

A blood-curdling scream shatters the silence Keith has been watching in, and he feels his heart jump in surprise. Lance’s body bursts into red-hot flames at the same time, but his clothes don’t burn as he howls in pain.

 

He suddenly looks up and turns to Keith, and they make eye contact, Lance from the ground, Keith from somewhere high up in the air.

 

The world turns black, and the red flames morph into armor as Keith is pulled closer. Lance stares at something behind him, face an expressionless mask, and Keith turns to see what he’s looking at.

 

It’s a bright blue sun, shape distorting in the wake of the black hole next to it.

 

It’s a replica of the piece Keith had just finished, but the black hole tears apart the sun in seconds, ripping it to shreds until there’s nothing left but empty space. The place the black hole occupied is just a dark gap, warping the distant stars around it like a stone in a river.

 

Keith turns back around, but the figure in red is wearing a helmet now, and the visor shows nothing.

 

There are no stars behind the red figure.

 

Keith wakes up to the blaring of his alarm with an uncomfortable heat in his lungs.

 

He scrambles to find his phone and turn off the alarm, and squints at the bright screen, cheekily displaying the time as eight am. All he can remember is the forest across the street from the farmer’s market and Lance in the red sci-fi armor he’d drawn for that commission.

 

The rest is just a blur, and the more Keith tries to remember, the more it fades from his memory as he gets up to shower and get ready for the day.

 

_Right, magic lessons are today._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!


	3. Lessons! + The Adventures of Dee and Leah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I always think of what I should say in these notes and how I should change the tags when I'm writing, but when I'm posting I always forget it smh.
> 
> Anyways, here's chapter 3!!

Keith adjusts the collar of his black jacket in his bathroom mirror, wondering if he’s supposed to wear certain clothes for magic. Underneath his jacket is a plain dark red shirt, and he’s wearing his usual black pants and boots.

 

_Allura didn’t say anything about what I should wear, so I’m probably fine, right? Right._

 

Keith runs a hand through his hair and turns away. He really doesn’t want to fuck up his first magic lesson, especially because of everything Pidge told him about it. He thinks that maybe she mentioned something about a uniform just before he had to go, but he’s not sure.

 

_Eh, whatever._

 

Shiro’s waiting for him in the parking lot of the apartment complex when he steps out. Normally, Keith will just take the bus if he wants to get to the other side of Altea, but today he can’t be late.

 

“You ready for magic lessons?” Shiro asks as they leave the parking lot.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lance and Allura really know what they’re doing.”

 

“Yeah…” Keith turns away from Shiro to look out his window. A thought pops into his head, and he turns back around to his brother. “Hey, you were there, right? What—what happened?”

 

Shiro’s knuckles whiten around the steering wheel, and he purses his lips grimly.

 

“It was really bad,” he says after a tense moment. “I only got there after it all happened, so it just seemed like you were passed out. But… Lance was in really bad shape. After we got you to the estate, he disappeared for a little over a day.”

 

“Why?”

 

Shiro clears his throat and shrugs as they turn onto the last road. “No idea. Allura only told me that what he did was really dangerous for his health, and that he had to be by himself for a while to recover.”

 

Keith looks down at his hands.

 

“He’s fine now though, right?”

 

“Seems like it.” They slow down so that Shiro can put in the keycode to open the front gates.

 

Keith frowns. Lance seemed perfectly healthy when Keith had interacted with him, with a bounce in his step and an attention-drawing presence. But if he wasn’t…

 

_What happened?_

 

“Well, you can ask him yourself, right?” Shiro asks as they pull up to the front door. “Anyways, have fun, don’t forget I’m picking you up at one, unless you want to take the bus.”

 

“Okay, _dad_ ,” Keith deadpans as he gets out of the car. Shiro just laughs.

 

Allura’s waiting at the door already. “Welcome back, Keith,” she greets warmly, stepping back to let Keith into the castle. “I hope you’re ready for your first magic lesson.”

 

She wears a tight-fitting white uniform, with accents of blue and pink at the waist and shoulders. When she turns, Keith notices the long cape fixed to her shoulders, swaying with her movements. Her arms are bare, showing off a glowing pink tattoo that wraps around her bicep. She’s also somehow managed to trap her long white hair into a thick bun at the back of her head.

 

“Thanks for offering to teach me.”

 

Allura smiles as she shuts the door, gesturing for Keith to follow her as she starts down the hallway. “I must say, I made the offer for quite selfish reasons,” she admits as they turn into a different hallway. “Before you, I only had Lance to teach, and he can be quite difficult at times.”

 

“What about Hunk?”

 

“Hunk is a very good learner, but his passions are in mechanical engineering. He knows quite a lot, but he’s much more interested in building with his hands, and I’d hate to force him to be my student.”

 

When Allura glances over at Keith’s her eyes are bright and intense. “But now that you have magic and wish to learn, I will have two proteges instead of one!”

 

It’s then that Keith realizes where he’s heard Allura’s name before.

 

“Hey, you’re the billionaire that was on the news a few years ago, right? The CEO of the Balmera mining company.”

 

Allura grins at Keith and gives a humble bow. “Yes, I am she. I’m surprised you didn’t realize sooner, with your brother’s background in business.”

 

Keith scowls and looks away.

 

“Yeah, I’m not a part of his company.”

 

“Oh! I’m sorry for assuming. What do you do, then?”

 

“I’m a freelance artist,” he says with a small burst of pride. He knows his earnings are significantly less than his brother’s and much more irregular, but art is what he’s good at, and he enjoys it much more than business.

 

Allura hums thoughtfully. “You’ll have to let me commission you sometime. Have you made anything for your brother’s company yet?”

 

“Yeah, I made the current logo and a few other things.”

 

“Fascinating. You have a very unique style.”

 

“Uh, thanks.”

 

Allura stops outside an open door, where a man with a vivid orange mustache waits.

 

“Anyways, this is Coran, my advisor. He will help you find the right uniform, and bring you to the training room when you are properly dressed.”

 

“Uniform?”

 

“Let’s go, my boy!”

 

Allura just smiles as Coran pulls Keith into the room. “Take your time.”

 

The room Coran pulls Keith into is just bigger than his room at his apartment, which isn’t very big at all. All three walls he looks into are crowded with hangars bursting with various articles of clothing. Coran goes straight to the back wall and starts digging around while Keith looks around.

 

“Say, Keith, what color is your magic?” Coran asks. “I recall when my grandfather first built this castle, he had only one traditional Altean uniform! Of course, he only needed the one, but back when the castle was full of magic-users coming and going, he needed to fabricate more for the use of those of all types of magic.”

 

“It’s red,” Keith interjects before Coran can continue.

 

“Ah, of course! How did I not realize? You’re already wearing your color!”

 

“Uh, yeah.” Keith looks down at his red shirt. Did he do that on purpose when he got dressed?

 

Coran pulls out a sleeveless uniform from the rack and hands it to Keith. Like what Allura was wearing, it also has a cape, a dark, velvety red that curls up and over the shoulders before joining at the neck. The rest of the uniform is mostly a brighter red, with some white around the lower legs where it cuts off at the ankles.

 

“Here you are,” Coran says cheerfully. “When you’re all dressed and ready, just step outside, and we’ll head to the training room.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The uniform fits perfectly, and the material feels similar to the medsuit Keith was wearing the last time he was here. He bundles up his clothes and steps out of the room.

 

“You look like a born Altean!” Coran praises. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes when we get to the training deck.”

 

Keith frowns down at his black boots. “Why?”

 

“The Altean uniforms are the result of years of experimentation by my grandfather. He developed the fabric itself, and it helps channel your magic throughout your body, making it easier to use and manipulate! Why, I remember when he first introduced the material to me! It was years ago, and I was just a boy learning how to use his magic…”

 

Keith tunes out the advisor as he recounts oddly specific details of his first exposure to the special Altean fabric, and by the time he tunes back in, they’re already at the training room, where Allura waits. Coran has somehow gotten to the topic of a magical accident he had as a child while Keith was tuned out.

 

“Are you ready to begin?” Allura asks. “You may place your clothes and shoes next to the door for this lesson.”

 

“Oh, right.” Keith is left barefoot on the cool floor, and Allura gestures for him to move to the center of the large room.

 

“We will begin with the most basic of techniques: sensing and channeling. Lance has informed me that your core is in your lungs, is that correct?”

 

Keith nods.

 

“So we will start with that.” Allura widens her stance and moves her hands up as she inhales deeply, lowering them as she exhales. “Your core is the most important part of your magic. Copy my movements, and focus on the feeling of air in your lungs as you inhale… then exhale.”

 

Keith mimics Allura’s stance, syncing up his breathing with hers as she continues to explain.

 

“The magic within your core is called quintessence. It is the purest and most concentrated form of magic, and manipulating it is incredibly difficult.”

 

“Also dangerous!” Coran pipes in with a smile. He stands somewhere behind Keith as he observes. “Quintessence is the most powerful form of magic, and every magic-user, no matter their type, can learn to wield their own with enough time.”

 

“Thank you, Coran. Now, Keith, close your eyes and concentrate on your breath. Recognize the magic within your lungs, it is a part of your body and you must accept it for what it is.”

 

Keith follows Allura’s directions, timing himself so his breaths are slow and deep. The heat in his lungs seems to get hotter when he turns his attention to it, a rich, blood red that fills his lungs close to bursting.

 

“Very good, Keith. You may open your eyes.”

 

When Keith opens his eyes, the world around him is tinted red, and he forgets to focus on his breathing.

 

The color fades soon after, and Allura smiles at Keith patiently.

 

“What you just saw was the world through the lens of your magic, Keith. You are making exceptional progress already; it took Lance almost a full day before he could see through his magic in his first lesson.”

 

Keith can easily picture Lance struggling to stand around and just breathe, but he’s surprised that it took him almost a day to do it. For Keith it felt entirely natural, almost meditative in nature. But Lance seems like the type to get bored easily, so Keith supposes it would be difficult for him.

 

“When you sync up your mind to your core, they become one! Allura’s father developed this beginner technique after seeing many magic-users struggle to grasp more intermediate sequences, as I recall.”

 

Allura smiles warmly at Coran, moving out of her stance to stand normally. “Yes, he did. Now, try to return to your previous state, and when you open your eyes, keep concentrating on your breath.”

 

The second time around, it’s much easier for Keith to turn his thoughts to the heat in his lungs, twin fires of heat that are tame under the gaze of his mind’s eye.

 

He opens his eyes and keeps breathing deeply, counting in his head as his hands move up and down slowly.

 

“Very good.” Allura widens her stance and folds her hands in the center of her chest. “Now we will move onto channeling. With every inhale, focus on moving your magic to your hands. Imagine you are pulling a string of magic from your lungs down to your fingertips. As you exhale, let yourself relax.”

 

Allura’s hands glow reddish-pink when she breathes in, eyes closed. As she slowly exhales, the color fades from her fingers. The color returns as soon as she starts to inhale again. She repeats this for several long moments, face open and serene.

 

Her eyes open, and she straightens up. “Now you.”

 

Keith copies her previous position and closes his eyes. He lets his shoulders slump as he exhales, then tries to imagine pulling his magic to his hands. He imagines a red string of magic connecting his lungs to his clasped hands as he inhales deeply through his nose.

 

The flames in his lungs respond immediately, and he feels a gentle surge of heat spread across his chest and travel down his arms to his hands. When he exhales again, he lets go of the image in his head, but the heat in his hands remains, pleasantly hot.

 

“This is remarkable,” Allura says from his right side. “There are no cases of an artificial magic-user using magic so naturally in the castle’s database. We will have to document this for future users. He is a bit unrefined, but shows incredible potential.”

 

Keith tries to ignore her, and concentrates on the fire in his hands, pulling more and more magic through his arms whenever he inhales.

 

“Perhaps it is due to the sequence Lance performed,” Coran suggests. “He must have followed the routine perfectly.”

 

“No, it was completely improvised. You know how he is about the overly complex movements, especially ones involving quintessence.”

 

Keith opens an eye and peeks down at his hands. They’re a bright, glowing red that matches the shade of his uniform perfectly, stopping halfway up his forearms, where the glow starts to fade to his normal skin tone.

 

“Alright Keith, you may relax. Slowly let go of the string keeping your magic to your hands, and let it recede to your core.”

 

Keith turns his attention away from his lungs, and his arms tingle as the magic retreats to his core. When he opens his eyes, it takes a lot longer for the red in his vision to fade away, but when it does, his vision feels sharper, like he can focus better.

 

“With time and practice, you will be able to pull magic from your core to wherever you wish, with barely a thought, as long as your breathing is under your control.” Allura turns to face Coran. “What do you gauge his potential as?”

 

Coran twirls his mustache around a finger as he thinks with a hum. “I would say at least on par with Lance’s,” he says eventually, “perhaps even more. You’re quite the natural at this, Keith!”

 

 _More potential than Lance?_ Keith looks down at his hands.

 

“Well, we will know for sure once you catch up to him,” Allura concludes happily. “At your current rate, you’ll be able to catch up in no time at all! For now, we should take a break for lunch. It’s nearly eleven.”

 

“Wait, really?” It feels like no time has passed at all.

 

But Allura nods with a pleasant smile. “It is very easy to lose track of yourself when you practice magic, even with simple exercises.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“When we are done with lunch, we may begin the next lesson if you would like.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

Keith walks behind Allura and Coran as they chat, thinking of the fire in his lungs.

 

Lance is in the dining room when Keith walks in, chowing down on a bowl of cereal at the head of the long table. He looks up at the sound of footsteps and waves before going back to his food.

 

“Hello Lance,” Allura greets.

 

“Good midday, my boy!”

 

Lance slurps up the last of the milk in his bowl loudly before leaning back in his chair. “Hey guys.” He turns to Keith when he sits down on his left with his food. “How’re you liking the lessons so far? Light your hands on fire again?”

 

Keith frowns at Lance’s aggressive tone.

 

“No! Lessons are fine.”

 

Lance snorts and laces his fingers behind his head. “Right, sure. How far are you into the sensing and channeling exercises? Those are so boring and easy.”

 

Keith’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he digs into his food.

 

“Allura said it took you almost a full day to finish your first lesson though.”

 

Lance scoffs and turns to glare at Allura on his right, but there’s no real heat behind it. Allura just shrugs and turns to Coran to talk.

 

“Did she now? I’m sure she also mentioned that I had to focus on like three things at once, right?”

 

“Uh, no. What did you have to do?”

 

Lance leans his elbow on one of the armrests, settling his head in his hand as he gestures with the other.

 

“I had to sync up my heart rate to this weird Altean music and then maintain it, and then also focus a little bit on my breathing while I do the channeling exercise. It was super easy once I figured out the right way to go about it; Allura’s string imagery didn’t really cut it.”

 

Keith frowns down at his food. What Lance had to do sounds a lot more difficult than what Keith was doing. Also, Lance seems to be acting completely normal, as far as he can tell from their few interactions. He’s also not wearing that mask, so he must be at least a little better, even if there are still bags under his eyes.

 

“What about sensing?”

 

“That uh—that’s actually where I had the most trouble,” Lance says, looking away as his cheeks darken.

 

Coran leans forward across the table, clapping a hand on Lance’s shoulder with a bright smile. “Lance came to the castle with magical experience, but no formal knowledge of his own magic!”

 

The corner of Lance’s mouth twitches upwards. “Yeah, when Allura started talking about sensing my core and all that junk, I got really confused  ‘cause I didn’t know how to sense my magic since it’s always been there.” His free hand moves up to hover over his chest, and Keith wonders where his core is.

 

“I must admit, I may have been a little, er, vague about the sensing,” Allura adds with a tinge of regret in her voice. “I assumed he was already familiar with sensing his core due to his ability when he came here.”

 

“Heck yeah you were,” Lance agrees. “But I got it eventually, and now I’m a genius magician, so it’s all good.”

 

“Sure, Lance.”

 

“I learned from the best,” Lance adds with a grin.

 

“You still have a lot to learn, but thank you.” Allura turns to Keith. “Are you finished eating? We should continue with our lessons before we run out of time.”

 

Keith quickly scarfs down the rest of the food on his tray and nods.

 

“You should join us, Lance,” Allura suggests, taking Keith’s tray and walking over to the wall. She presses a hand against it, and the wall slides away to reveal a flat slot. She pushes the empty trays inside and turns away while the slot disappears.

 

Keith watches with wide eyes; apparently the castle is much more modern than he’d anticipated due to its nickname.

 

“I don’t know,” Lance says uncertainly. “I don’t really feel like watching Keith breathe for a few hours.”

 

Allura’s eyes widen in surprise. “We were going to move onto the next set of lessons, actually. Keith is progressing unusually quickly.”

 

Lance scowls darkly but stands anyways, muttering a gruff “whatever” as he deposits his dishes into a similar slot in the wall.

 

Keith walks beside Lance as they head back to the training room while Allura and Coran talk to each other a few steps ahead. Lance walks casually, hands jammed into the pockets of his green jacket, but his head is turned down to the floor.

 

When they reach the training room, he sits down against the right wall, so he can see what both Allura and Keith are doing.

 

Coran excuses himself in the doorway, saying he has time-sensitive business matters to attend to, and then it’s just Allura, Lance, and Keith.

 

“Keith, you remember the channeling exercise, correct?” Keith nods. “Good. You will do the same thing, but this time channel your magic to your feet instead of your hands.”

 

Keith widens his stance to assume the same position as before and closes his eyes. He hears Allura walk in Lance’s direction, but tries to block it out and focus on his breathing.

 

“Well?”

 

“What?”

 

“What do you think of his potential, Lance?”

 

Lance makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound and there’s silence for a moment.

 

Keith slows his breathing and imagines the same red strings pulling magic down his legs as he inhales… then exhales. In… and out.

 

“You must have more to say,” Allura quietly insists. “This is your magic at work, you know.”

 

“It’s not though. It turned all fiery and red, Allura. It may have come from me, but it’s not mine anymore, or at least not entirely.”

 

Keith opens an eye and tries to look over at Lance without turning his head, but all he sees is a blur on the ground through his peripheral vision. Lance sounds pretty pissed off though, based on his tone of voice.

 

“The fact that your magic was able to change this much at all is amazing.”

 

The Allura-shaped blur on the edge of Keith’s field of view starts moving forward, and he closes his eyes.

 

“Very good, Keith, you may relax.” Allura turns back towards Lance as Keith straightens and opens his eyes. “Do you think he’s ready to move on, Lance?”

 

Lance frowns and scratches the back of his head. “What was the next lesson? I can’t remember.”

 

“Manipulation and creation! You created your own sequence for creation, I believe, as part of an assignment.”

 

“Oh yeah. I don’t know though, Keith isn’t that patient of a person.”

 

“What’s your deal with me?” Keith demands angrily, turning to face Lance at the edge of the room.

 

Lance scowls and stands, stomping over to Keith until they’re standing toe-to-toe. He jabs a finger into Keith’s chest, prompting a rush of heat to flare up in his lungs wildly.

 

“My problem is that you’re here!”

 

“The only reason I’m here is because you couldn’t watch where you were going,” Keith retorts. It’s not entirely true (Keith wasn’t watching either) but Keith can’t help himself. His lungs feel like they’re furnaces, and every word out of Lance’s mouth is another piece of coal into the flames.

 

“You’re such a th—”

 

“Lance.”

 

Allura cuts off Lance with a hard glare, and he grits his teeth in frustration, turning around to stalk back to the wall, where he drops down into a sitting position with an angry huff.

 

“I’m terribly sorry, Keith. Allow me to continue the lesson.”

 

Keith nods stiffly.

 

Allura lifts her hands in front of her body, loosely curling her fingers around each other but leaving her index fingers extended outwards. There’s a low hum that reminds Keith of an electric current, and the space between Allura’s curled fingers begins to glow with pink light. The pink light brightens until it’s almost white, and Keith has to squint at its strength.

 

After a few moments, Allura moves her hands apart until they’re the same width as her shoulders, stretching a glossy band of pink light in a straight line between them. She slowly lunges to the side and her hands move further away from each other as she steps fully to her right. Her hands circle each other in a myriad of positions, always with the pink light connecting them, as she moves around the room, steps light and airy. The radiant light leaves afterimages that stick in Keith’s eyes as he watches.

 

He notices only when she returns to her original position in front of him that her eyes have been closed the whole time.

 

The rosy light fades quickly, and Allura opens her eyes with a smile.

 

“What I just performed was a freeform manipulation sequence. How would you rate that, Lance?”

 

“For manipulation, pretty good Allura. I’m proud.” Lance gives Allura thumbs up, which she returns before turning back to Keith. His previous anger seems to have dissipated completely, but he doesn’t look at Keith at all.

 

“In order to manipulate your magic outside of your body, you must first draw it out,” Allura says. “You first sense your magic, then draw it to a specific part of your body, where you will push it out and into the world. To start, hold out a finger and channel your magic to it.”

 

Keith holds his index finger in front of himself and concentrates on it, allowing his breathing to settle into a slow rhythm as he draws his magic to it. A now-familiar heat blooms in his chest, flowing down his arm to his finger, where it grows hot.

 

Allura waits until his finger is glowing a blazing red before she continues, holding out her own index finger as an example.

 

“Now, recall that with channeling, you pull magic to the place you want it to go. With manipulation, you must push it out with your mind, outside your body.”

 

Lance clears his throat loudly as he steps forward. “Actually, I think it might be better for him to try grabbing first,” he suggests, tone carefully neutral. He lifts his hand, palm to the ceiling and loosely curled. His left hand moves up to hover over it a few inches away as he turns to Keith to demonstrate. “Think of it like you’re grabbing your magic with your other hand and pulling it out,” he explains.

 

His left hand closes in a grabbing gesture and moves away, bringing a glittery blue light with it that sits in the palm of his right hand. When the light appears, goosebumps rise on Keith’s arms, which he rubs at to try and make them go away.

 

Lance moves his hand back and forth a few times, pulling magic out of his hand and then back.

 

“Of course, this hand—” Lance wiggles his left hand “—would be your mind, but it’s basically the same concept, and much more direct progression from channeling in my opinion.”

 

Allura hums thoughtfully as she watches, then nods once Lance drops his hands to his sides.

 

“I never thought of it like that,” she admits. “Yes, try it that way first, Keith.”

 

Keith focuses hard on the red glow from his finger and tries to pull it out with his mind, imagining the string extending out of his finger and into the air. His finger grows hotter and hotter, until Keith thinks that he should probably be feeling pain right now. But the heat only feels comfortably pleasant, as if it’s well within the boundaries of his heat tolerance.

 

Slowly, a small ball of red light forms above his finger, a matte red that flickers like a candle in the breeze. He still feels the heat from the magic, but now it’s not coming from his body, which makes the sensation seem disjointed somehow.

 

“Wonderful, Keith. You may stop drawing magic to your finger, but focus on trying to get out all of the magic that’s still there, until it no longer glows. Manipulation is not used often by magic-users, but it is a necessary stepping stone to creation.”

 

Keith squints at the light hovering above his finger and tries to pull out more magic from his fingertip. The warmth in his finger diminishes as the burning sensation where the light is grows. The light itself soon stops flickering and grows more intense, and Keith watches it in awe.

 

 _I just did this_ , he thinks, waving his finger around and watching the trail of red that’s left behind. His lungs are on fire, but it’s nice, satisfying in a way he doesn’t think would be possible without magic. It’s also taxing, exhausting his mind as the seconds tick by like a persistent headache.

 

“Now, hold your magic there. It probably feels strange, sensing your magic outside your body, but soon you will become familiar with it.” Allura pulls an orb of pink light from her own finger. “With your other hand, grab hold of the magic, and stretch it between your hands.” Keith watches as she easily demonstrates the technique, working her magic like taffy.

 

He tries to copy her, poking at his own red ball of light. The headache worsens when he pulls on the magic, but he stays with it, pulling and lengthening it between his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Lance turn away, one hand lifting to his head, but he can’t look for long before his attention is drawn back to the magic in his hands.

 

He rotates his arms back and forth as he watches the streak of red light change length.

 

That’s when the reality really hits Keith: _he has magic_ . Because of some event that he’s not even really clear about, he has magic. Fucking _magic_.

 

A dizzying rush of power fills his lungs with red flames and his vision blurs with the ferocity of it. The fire in his lungs grows hotter and hotter, until he feels like a furnace for a crazed inferno of heat and dominance. It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, like he might lose control at any moment and go up in flames, consumed by the voice in his core that lets out a primal roar.

 

Allura doesn’t seem to notice, analyzing the magic between Keith’s fingers, and the gradually, the feeling weakens before disappearing altogether. He lets out a shuddering sigh, grateful that his wide stance rooted him to the ground, and focuses on the magic in front of him.

 

“You may rest now, Keith. That was nearly perfect.”

 

The headache Keith had almost completely forgotten about dissolves the moment he lets his concentration break, leaving his head clear and alert.

 

Lance turns to start heading back towards the edge of the room, but Allura turns to him with a proud smile. “Lance, that was a wonderful idea. Would you like to show Keith the creation technique?”

 

Lance stops, but he doesn’t turn back around.

 

“Wasn’t that the one with the really weird sequence?”

 

“It will be quite different for Keith; his magic is very different from yours. You don’t have to follow the routine, just demonstrate so he knows what it looks like.”

 

Lance turns back with a shrug, but Keith doesn’t miss the way his shoulders hike up ever so slightly. “Sure, I guess. Anything specific I should focus on? Maybe projections?”

 

Allura nods and steps back, allowing Lance to take her place.

 

“Yes, that would be a great place to start with. Be as simple or as complex as you would like.”

 

“Oh yeah, we can start simple,” Lance says with a smirk.

 

Keith takes a few hesitant steps back as Lance takes a stance facing away from him. It looks almost completely different from the stance Allura has been making Keith use.

 

Lance stands tall, with his feet pressed close together and his hands loose by his sides. He inhales deeply, arms raising in a gesture similar to Keith’s breathing exercise, but when he exhales, he moves forward, and once again goosebumps rise along Keith’s arms.

 

A look of intense concentration furrows his eyebrows and turns his lips slightly downward, eyes jumping around the room.

 

His movements are slow, smooth as his weight shifts from one foot to the other, bending low and then reaching upwards with fingers splayed outwards. As he circles the room, he brings with him a chilled breeze, and as his hands begin move faster and faster, they bend into seemingly random positions.

 

At some point, he steps behind Keith, and Keith feels the faintest touch on his shoulders for a moment, ice cold. Lance moves on, and when he gets to Allura, he does the same thing.

 

Keith and Allura lock eyes for a moment, and Allura grins excitedly, hands clasped together in front of her.

 

Lance sways back and forth in a slow tide of movement, circling closer and closer to the center of the room until he’s back in the same spot as before, only now his hands are turned upwards. Lance is completely still for a long moment, eyes drifting closed as the improvised sequence comes to an end. A tiny bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

 

But then his eyes spring open, he snaps his fingers once, and the room suddenly fills with bright colors.

 

Keith squints at the onslaught of color and light overloading his sight, but once he adjusts, the training room looks completely different.

 

_What the hell?_

 

Instead of an all-white interior dotted with blue lights high along the walls, Keith stands at the bottom of the ocean in the middle of a coral reef. Surrounding him on all sides are a rainbow of colors, and his vision is tinted blue as he looks around. When he tries to focus on a particular pink coral, the image warps and distorts, lightening until he’s looking at the floor of the now-cold training room.

 

Keith looks away, and the coral comes back a moment later. The training room wall is no longer there, replaced by a deep blue expanse that looks like the open ocean, though that too fades when Keith looks at it for more than a few seconds.

 

He looks over at movement in his periphery. A massive shoal of silvery-blue fish surrounds Lance, swimming as one in circles around his upper body as he walks around the room. His right eye is glowing blue but the other is normal.

 

“This is not what I would call simple,” Allura says jokingly, “but it’s certainly impressive.” A pink shark-like creature plays around her hands when they move, and she smiles.

 

Lance turns to Allura and points finger guns at her. “All for you, sugar.”

 

Allura scowls and turns away, towards Keith.

 

“Anyways, as you can see, this is a projection using a technique called creation. If you focus on one area for more than a small amount of time, the projection will disappear. Although Lance was showing off and improvising, he was working to create what you see now. You may let go of it now, Lance.”

 

Lance pouts but raises his arms dutifully anyways. He plucks at something Keith can’t see, hands glittering as they move, and the projection starts to lose color, saturation fading as he pulls at the air. Eventually, he’s left with a bundle of shimmering blue in his arms, which seeps through his clothes and into his body when he drops his arms.

 

Heat returns to the room once the magic is back in his system, and Keith lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

 

“Now, a projection does not work on those that are far away, unless it includes them. Inclusion puts a very weak filter over someone, but they may still see past it through sensing. For now though, we will just focus on creating the projection itself.

 

“When Lance was moving around the room, he was drawing out his magic into the air and coloring it how he wished. If we were to watch him perform the sequence again, but through the lens of our magic, we would see him stringing colored light and magic around the room.”

 

Keith narrows his eyes as he tries to process what Allura said.

 

“The snap was a disguise for the process of bringing the magic up into the view of users and non-users alike,” she continues. “Creation is really a combination of multiple small techniques to bring something—in our case a projection—to life. The type of projection Lance used is called landscaping, for obvious reasons of course.”

 

Lance seems to notice Keith’s confusion, because he steps forward to add on to Allura’s explanation.

 

“After you get some magic out, it’s like drawing, but much easier, because the magic does all the hard work.” Lance pulls a small blue ball of light from his hand and draws a smiley face in the air that Keith can only see the afterimage of. “Projection magic doesn’t really exist on like, the physical plane, so when you’re done drawing you have to sort of push it out so people can see it.”

 

Lance makes a pushing motion with both hands, and a wobbly blue smiley face forms out of thin air in front of him. Another bead of sweat drips down his neck that Keith tries not to focus on, but Lance doesn’t seem to notice that it’s there at all.

 

“Yes,” Allura says. “Although I do believe it’s easier to draw and bring the light into view at the same time.”

 

Lance shrugs nonchalantly. “Whatever floats your boat.” He moves back towards the edge of the room.

 

“We begin the same way as with manipulation. Draw your magic out of your hand.”

 

Keith closes his eyes and focuses on his magic, pulling it back to his arm. The flow of the magic down to his hand now feels familiar, as if the magic itself remembers the way. Or maybe it’s that voice in his lungs, controlling the heat that slips down his arm in a wave of fiery warmth with a wordless murmur in that echoes in the back of his head.

 

“Now you must act as if the magic you hold is now the ink in a marker. Draw an image into the air, and concentrate on that image in your head.”

 

Keith draws an upright circle, hand smoothly moving through the air. He burns the afterimage of the red circle into his mind and focuses on it in the air, waiting to be brought into existence.

 

“Good. Try to do as Lance said and push the image into existence with your mind. Imagine it is ink seeping through layers of paper, and push until you can see it.”

 

A sharp pain stabs the back of Keith’s head as he tugs on the magic in the air with his mind, but he persists, pushing it away and imagining the red circle hovering in the air in front of him. His lungs are on fire but in a good way, almost like he’s working a muscle.

 

Maybe he is.

 

With a grunt of exertion, Keith gives one final push with his mind on the circle of magic, and then there it is, exactly as he’d imagined it. The headache lessens, but only slightly.

 

“It’s like you’re a natural born magic-user,” Allura murmurs to herself, walking around Keith and the red circle with glowing pink eyes. “The degree of control and oversight you have is unnaturally high for such little exposure to magic.”

 

Lance scoffs. “So he can draw a circle in the air,” he says. “That’s hardly impressive, even for a beginner.”

 

Keith returns the glare Lance sends his way until Allura blocks his view.

 

“In this state, a projection can be felt by magic-users as a physical object, so to let go of it, you must treat it as a physical object, like a canvas or net.” Allura remains blocking Lance from Keith’s view, effectively ignoring him as she explains. “Grab onto the projection and pull it towards your core until it is entirely gone from view. From then, you may simply let it absorb itself back into your body. It is quite easy.”

 

Keith pulls at the red circle, poking at its molten texture and slowly pulling it towards his chest. The image dissolves almost immediately, and the magic practically falls into his lungs once he has it all. The magic feels nice and hot as it slips into Keith’s core, and he sighs at the gratifying feeling.

 

_It’s insane how easy everything has been so far._

 

Lance scoffs bitterly. “I’ll say,” he grumbles. “This must be just like taking a walk in the park for you.”

 

Keith freezes, shoulders tensing, as he turns towards Lance.

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

Lance’s eyes widen and his scowl drops off his face a moment later.

 

Allura raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “Are you doing what I specifically told you not to?”

 

Lance frowns. “I wasn’t trying to do anything. It just happened, I swear.”

 

“Do what?” Lance and Allura both ignore Keith.

 

“I’m finding that hard to believe.”

 

Lance scrambles to his feet. “What’s there to believe? You think I really want to be listening to his—” Lance points at Keith “—thoughts?”

 

“You seemed to have no problem doing so at your show.” Allura crosses her arms and takes a step forward. “What reason have you given me to prove otherwise?”

 

“That’s only because he was thinking so loudly!” Lance exclaims, waving his arms around in the air. “It would be more work _not_ to listen!”

 

“So then what? Was that just some magical anomaly?”

 

_What the hell is going on?_

 

Lance makes a frustrated noise and pulls at his short hair. “Shut it, Keith.” He starts pacing around in a circle nervously, oblivious to Allura’s wide-eyed expression. “This has to be because of that sequence I did, I’m not even using my magic at all.”

 

_Oh man oh man oh man._

 

Keith jumps in surprise; that definitely is not one of his thoughts, and he knows that it couldn’t be the voice in his lungs, either. But it hadn’t been said out loud, and Allura doesn’t seem to have heard either. She just looks confused and slightly worried, but she doesn’t try to stop Lance’s pacing.

 

_Was that Lance?_

 

Lance stops pacing to scowl at Keith. “Who else could it be, Keith? Do I sound like Allura at all?”

 

_Oh man oh man oh man._

 

“Uhh…”

 

Allura steps forward before Lance can resume pacing, stepping directly in front of him just as he’s about to start again.

 

“I believe you, Lance,” she says carefully. “Clearly you aren’t attempting to listen in on Keith’s thoughts, but it seems to be happening anyways.”

 

“You’re _what_?!”

 

“But why? I’m not doing anything, I’m actively trying not to use my magic at all!”

 

“I’m not sure, but we will figure this out. Is Pidge still in the library?”

 

“Uh, yeah, with Hunk. You think she’ll be able to help?”

 

“She knows just as much as I do about magic,” Allura says firmly. “And Hunk will at least be able to help us brainstorm.”

 

“Right, right. Let’s go.”

 

Allura turns to Keith as she guides an anxious Lance towards the door of the training room. “Keith, you should come too. If Lance is only able to hear your thoughts, then there may be an issue with your magic, too.”

 

Keith trails after Lance and Allura as they quickly move through the castle, wondering how he could possibly be related to whatever problem Lance is having. Allura heaves open a familiar door and ushers him and Lance inside before stepping in herself, narrowly avoiding being hit by the heavy door.

 

At the same table in the back is Pidge, surrounded by multiple piles of books and a complicated-looking piece of technology, which she pokes at insistently. She’s wearing a long green dress with short sleeves, and has a green headband pushing her bangs away from her face. Her glasses are tucked into the collar of the dress just like when Keith saw her last.

 

When she hears the door open, she looks up, mouth open to say something, but cuts herself off before she can even start when she sees the look on Lance’s face. She quickly clears a space on the table and pulls out a chair just in time for Lance to collapse into.

 

“Uh, hey guys,” she says awkwardly, watching Allura walk straight to a bookshelf and start pulling out books by the twos and threes.

 

Hunk pokes his head out from behind a shelf near the back.

 

“Pidge, I found that one b—oh hey, guys.”

 

Keith stands behind the chair next to Lance, not quite ready to sit down, and Pidge eyes him with vague suspicion as Hunk walks over. He’s in a green vest over a long sleeved yellow shirt and cargo pants, and he has an orange headband tied around his head, pushing his bangs off of his forehead like Pidge.

 

“What happened?” he asks, spotting the look on Lance’s face as he gets closer.

 

Keith just shrugs. “Hell if I know.”

 

Allura drops three stacks of books onto the table with a slam and pushes one towards Pidge and another towards Hunk, who peek at the covers curiously.

 

“‘The Functions and Nature of Quintessence’? ‘Magical Anomalies and Other Faults’? Allura, what’s going on? And why does Lance look like he’s about to pass out?”

 

“Is this like that one time where he accidentally did the wrong sequence?” Hunk asks worriedly. “Because if it is then he just needs to rest for a few days, right? Right?”

 

“Lance’s magic seems to be malfunctioning,” Allura says, pulling the book on quintessence from the stack and flicking it open. “He has been hearing Keith’s thoughts without consciously using his magic.”

 

_He’s been reading my mind? What the fuck?!_

 

“Hey, it’s not like I’m trying to, okay? I’m just as confused as you are.” Lance pulls the next book from the stack and starts flipping through the pages.

 

Hunk’s eyes widen. “Woah. I think you just did it, Lance.”

 

“What? No I didn’t! He was clearly speaking out loud.” Lance gives Hunk a weird look, intentionally avoiding Keith’s gaze.

 

“Uh, he clearly was not,” Pidge says excitedly. “Oh wow, do you think this has to do with the sequence you did?”

 

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?” Keith asks no one in particular.

 

Pidge turns to Keith with an inquisitive look. “Mindreading is kind of a thing when you have magic. Well technically it’s more like mind-listening because you only get coherent thoughts, no feelings or concepts really. At least, that’s what all the castle files on it say. They also say that it takes a lot of concentration and magic unless the thought is really intense? I’m not sure how accurate that is but—”

 

“I think he gets it, Pidge,” Lance interrupts.

 

“You’ve been reading my mind this entire time?!”

 

 _Oh, I guess not then._ “Continue, Pidge.”

 

“He’s only getting full thoughts, Keith,” Pidge explains. “It’s not like he can dig around your brain or anything.”

 

“Well that makes me feel better.”

 

“Cool it, hothead,” Lance says. “She’s just trying to give you the facts ‘n stuff.” _Damn, no wonder you’re a fire type._

 

Keith can already feel his lungs start to get hotter at the insult. “Is that supposed to be an insult or something?”

 

Hunk squints at Keith like he’s gone insane, and he supposes he might as well be, with what’s happening right now.

 

“No, Keith, he’s just saying that she’s trying to—oh wait, did you just hear what Lance was thinking?” Hunk’s eyes dart between Keith and Lance suspiciously for several moments. “This is so weird.”

 

“If it’s any consolation,” Allura adds, “I agree.” She closes the book in her hands and puts it back on the table, grabbing the next one in her stack to open up and examine. “I’m not finding anything in the textbooks about unintentional telepathy.”

 

Pidge snatches the book Lance is looking at from his grasp to flip through herself, ignoring his whines of protest. “Maybe this is a rare, undocumented case? Lance and Keith’s types are pretty uncommon.”

 

“It might be, but I can’t imagine that there wouldn’t be any records at all.”

 

“Try looking through the books about his specific type of magic,” Hunk suggests, picking up a thick tome. “Maybe there’s something in there.”

 

“Good thinking.” Allura moves over to a different bookshelf and grabs three from the very bottom right. They’re all significantly slimmer and newer-looking than the others on the table, probably no more than a hundred pages each.

 

_I wonder why._

 

_It’s ‘cause my magic is rare, duh._

 

Keith jumps a little and looks down at where Lance is sitting. He doesn’t turn around, but Keith is sure he knows he’s looking.

 

“Did you just—?”

 

_I’m not trying to, okay?_

 

Allura hands one of the books to Pidge and slides another across the table to Lance, keeping one for herself to look through. “Here, start looking for information about telepathy and anomalies. Hunk, keep looking through the books on quintessence.”

 

Keith watches Lance slowly page through his book, aptly titled ‘The Magic-User: Water Types’. Most of the book is just pictures, with small captions and thin blocks of large-print text highlighting the lack of information. Lance flips through it all with a bored expression, scanning the pages with familiarity and a small yawn.

 

He flips to a large, full-page diagram of the human body, with a few areas shaded in and paired with their own captions, and something catches Keith’s eye. Lance turns the page, and Keith jumps forward.

 

“Wait, what was that last page?” Lance groans but turns back the page anyways, turning it sideways so the diagram is upright. “Irrelevant, that’s what it is.”

 

‘Core Locations and Prevalence in Water Types’

 

Keith leans forward and squints at the print on top of a shaded-in image of a brain on the diagram.

 

‘The Mind: The brain is a core location typical of general types and a selection of rarer elemental types, with the exception of the water type. Magic-users of the water type with a core located in the mind are unusual, due to the emotional affinity displayed by water types.

 

‘The Lungs and Ribcage: These are the primary locations of cores in water types, due to the steady—’

 

“This has nothing to do with our problem,” Lance says as he turns the page. He looks through the next few pages for a few seconds each before throwing down the book. “Ugh, I’ve read this like a thousand times. There’s nothing about telepathy in here.”

 

_I’d rather try one of Coran’s weird food creations than have this last any longer._

 

_What if it’s permanent?_

 

_Ease off the nightmare fuel please._

 

Pidge tosses down her book on top of Lance’s. “Do you think there’d be anything about it in the books on Keith’s magic type?”

 

Allura shakes her head with a sigh of resignation.

 

“There are only two accounts of fire types in the castle archives, and they’re ancient recordings from many years ago. I don’t believe even I’ve seen them before.”

 

Lance claps his hands. “Well, where are they? Chop chop, I don’t like hearing Keith’s thoughts, it’s weird. There’s gotta be something, right?”

 

Keith pointedly ignores the jab.

 

Pidge grabs the piece of technology from the table and fiddles with a few multi-colored buttons on its dark face. “I’ve listened to those clips before, a while back,” she says. “I don’t think there’s anything useful in them, and it’ll take forever to dig them up ‘cause of Coran’s weird system.

 

“One of them was a really short video of a fire type doing some sequence with his quintessence, and the other one was a sort of interview with a super rare grayscale life type. It got real creepy real quick, and I’m pretty sure the fire type was only mentioned in it. I only got a few minutes in though.”

 

Allura pauses in her reading. “A grayscale? How have I not heard of this?”

 

“It was under the fire type section, right after the sequence one.” Pidge shrugs.

 

“And you said this user was talking about a connection to other lifeforms? Could you pull it up in the archives?”

 

“Yeah but it’ll take some time. Also, I don’t get what this has to do with Lance and Keith’s telepathic connection.”

 

Pidge is already setting down her tech and walking over to the small section of wall between the two windows at the back of the room. She presses a hand to the middle and, like in the dining room, a small portion of the wall slides away. Pidge reaches into the new hole and pulls out a slim device that looks similar to a tablet, and starts tapping away at the screen.

 

Allura closes her book and sets it down on the table. “There might be a connection, but I must hear this interview so I can be sure of it.” She rubs her chin and looks down. “How have I never heard of such an interview?” she murmurs to herself.

 

Hunk turns towards Keith. “So you can hear Lance’s thoughts, and Lance can hear yours?”

 

“Seems like it,” Keith says with a shrug.

 

“Wow.”

 

“It’s not that great, buddy,” Lance adds, leaning forward with a scowl.

 

There’s a quiet beep from the tablet-thing in Pidge’s hand and she looks up.

 

“Okay, it’ll be a while before I find the interview, but I can pull up the other video if you want? It’s pretty interesting anyways, and Keith can probably learn a thing or two from this lady.”

 

Allura nods. “Yes, sure.”

 

Pidge swipes two fingers up, and a round object appears in the middle of the table. A light blinks on and off a couple times before a hologram appears directly above it, displaying a grainy image with a large play button in the center. “Here it is.” Pidge presses a button on the tablet-like device, and the video starts playing.

 

There’s a small figure standing on what looks like a beach, facing the ocean with their hands clasped behind their back. Their long hair is pulled back into a long, fiery red braid that reaches down to their knees. They wear a long white dress that flutters in a breeze.

 

Whoever’s holding the camera moves closer, and the figure turns.

 

“Okay, Leah, it’s recording,” the cameraperson says, voice high-pitched and feminine. “You ready?”

 

It’s hard to tell from the bad quality of the video, but it looks like the redhead smiles.

 

“You can’t be holding the camera, Dee,” the redhead, Leah, scolds gently. “You’re gonna need both hands for this, and I might accidentally melt the camera if it’s too close.”

 

“Ugh, you’re so responsible,” Dee moans. The camera angle changes as Dee sets it onto the ground on top of a mound of sand. “You need to learn how to live a little, like me!”

 

Dee moves into the camera’s view; she’s wearing a dress identical to Leah, and her curly black hair is cut short. She walks over to Leah and they embrace for a long moment. When Leah pulls away, she pecks Dee on the cheek before moving a few feet away.

 

She stands close to the edge of the camera’s view and folds her hands in front of her as she stands tall. Dee hops around on her feet excitedly, giving the camera a quick peace sign before turning back to Leah.

 

Leah inhales, exhales, and then she’s in motion, moving across the sand in quick steps. Her arms move into sharp, angled positions, and she darts across the sand towards Dee. As she moves around Dee, Keith begins to catch glimpses of bright red close to her shoulders.

 

Leah twists around and her hands move up to her shoulders. When they pull away, they bring with them thick ropes of quintessence, burning flames of magic traveling along its entire length. Dee is starting her own dance, light and airy as she steps around Leah. Her own hands move to her waist and she draws two ghostly strings of quintessence from her midsection, nearly transparent through the lens of the camera.

 

Dee’s style of dance is a sharp contrast to Leah’s. Where Dee is clearly up on her toes Leah is low to the ground. When Dee lifts her head high, sunlight glinting off her dark skin, Leah ducks her head, cutting through space like a razor.

 

They dance around each other for a short time before something suddenly changes.

 

Their dances sync up into a strange yet elegant mix of the two, and they alternate forms every few seconds. Leah’s arms move high into the air at the same time as Dee’s and they lock onto each other, movements stilling as their fingers twine together.

 

Keith suddenly feels like he’s intruding on something private when they press their foreheads together for a brief moment.

 

_Wow._

 

He watches in shock as they pull apart, Leah now with a string of pale quintessence following her right hand and Dee with a flaming rope of red tailing hers. Dee laughs as they resume dancing, movements now mirroring each other as they face each other and then away.

 

When they finally come together, they hold hands again, and both of their quintessences wrap around their bodies tightly before seeping through their clothes and into their bodies.

 

Dee laughs again, waving their clasped hands in the air, and now Leah’s smile is obvious as she stares at her.

 

“Ah! That was perfect, Leah. I’m so proud.”

 

Leah pulls Dee into a tight hug before pulling away. She doesn’t let go of her hands though.

 

“Do you think the camera got everything? I hope we didn’t move out of view.”

 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Dee says, pulling Leah with her over to the camera. “Look, see? I think if I press this button it’ll—”

 

The video ends suddenly, cutting off whatever Dee was about to say. The hologram disappears a moment later and the projector in the table recedes.

 

“Well, that certainly was impressive,” Allura says after an awkward amount of time. “I have never seen such a technique using quintessence before.”

 

“That was so romantic,” Hunk gushes, hands cupping his cheeks as he smiles up at the place where the hologram was.

 

“According to the video’s caption, the grayscale type Dee made it up,” Pidge says. She doesn’t look up from the tablet in her hands, and she’s still typing on it with one hand. “There’s nothing about it in the archives though, so she must not have gotten it recorded, or maybe the data just got corrupted.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Lance stretches with a yawn. “Well, that looked pretty cool but it sadly doesn’t help at all with the whole telepathy dealio. How long until we get that interview, Pidgey?”

 

“Just a couple more minutes and I should have it. Allura, you really need to talk to Coran about his categorizing system, it’s the worst thing I think I’ve ever seen. He has Altean names for all of the types, and all the recorded users are listed in some code with no order at all.”

 

“Yes well, the castle archives are not usually this important to be able to sort through.”

 

Pidge huffs. “These weird magical situations are why proper organization is necessary. But whatever, I found the interview.”

 

“Oh man, I hope it’s like the first video,” Hunk says.

 

The hologram that pops up above the table is grainy in the same way as the other video, and it shows the interior of a room similar in design to the castle’s rooms.

 

Dee is there too, lounging around in a chair with a tall back and looking thoroughly bored.

 

“Alright, let’s start with the statistics,” a male voice says. The accent and intonation are suspiciously similar to Coran’s, that much is obvious. “Name, type, core.”

 

Dee straightens up and clears her throat, looking above the camera at the speaker.

 

“My name is Deana Mincort, my magic type is grayscale, or black-and-white, and my core is undefined.”

 

“Could you elaborate on that?”

 

“I certainly can, Smythe. My core is uncontained within my body, and all the magic I can use is some form of quintessence, unfiltered.”

 

“Quite fascinating, Dee. Could you describe the nature of your magic? Specifically your most recent uses for it?”

 

Dee grins widely.

 

“I would call my magic specific only because I’ve never met another user with similar affinities, but it is quite general. I can use my quintessence directly with living beings without harming them.” Dee lifts a hand and waves it around in the air as she speaks, pulling out a short length of ghostly quintessence. “Of course, I soon found that I could revive lifeforms close after death and attach them to me, but you already know all about that.”

 

“Please, for the interview. I’m afraid we don’t have much time left.”

 

“Well, the process itself is quite simple, but it’s what happens after that’s really interesting. After I first revived Leah, we didn’t interact very much. I was too deep into my studies, and it was in the middle of the war, so we couldn’t find much time to talk.

 

“But after the ceasefire, we ran into each other again, and after a short amount of time found that we could communicate across long distances without our magic.”

 

“Communicate in what ways?”

 

“Just vague sensing and sharing of emotions, and it only worked from afar after we’d gotten to know each other. After we became friends, Leah encouraged me to try to use my magic for the same function again. We went to the greenhouse and I used my magic to revive a few diseased plants. After a few visits with Leah, I was able to sense their health, and when the first one eventually died, I felt it.”

 

“Describe the feeling.”

 

Dee lets her quintessence retreat into her body as she looks away.

 

“There wasn’t any physical pain, but it felt like I’d lost a bit of myself in that plant when it died. It was a terrible feeling, but I still went back to the greenhouse many times after with Leah, and I still revived many more plants.”

 

“Let’s talk about Leah. You felt when she was injured in the final battle, yes? As I recall you became very anxious about her before you two became friends.”

 

Dee leans forward in her chair. “Yes, it was a terrifying, gut-wrenching feeling in my whole body, and my magic was telling me that something was wrong. It didn’t go away until I saw her in the medical—Smythe!”

 

There’s a sudden crash from the right side of the screen and a dull thud close behind the camera. Dee leaps to her feet and backs away to the left as a dark figure steps into the camera’s view.

 

His skin is the same shade that Keith remembers, but there’s no scar on his face, and he doesn’t look as old. But the dark purple suit is all too familiar, and Keith feels the heat in his lungs die a little when the figure turns directly to the camera.

 

It’s Zarkon.

 

“But—you—you’re dead,” Dee stammers, taking a few weak steps back. “The Galra are extinct!”

 

Zarkon chuckles darkly, turning away from the camera. He makes no attempt to move closer to Dee.

 

Keith wonders where the interviewer is.

 

“We are very much alive. And we found you, grayscale. You’d make a fine addition to the Empire with your abilities.”

 

“I don’t kill,” Dee hisses. “And I’m definitely not stupid enough to follow a traitorous Galran rat.”

 

Zarkon turns away, seeming to be saddened by Dee’s rejection, but Keith recognizes the insincerity in his posture. His shoulders slouch but his eyes glint dangerously, a threatening light that Dee can’t see from her position but the camera catches perfectly.

 

_No!_

 

“It truly is a shame that you won’t come willingly. I will have to do this the hard way.”

 

Almost before Zarkon finishes speaking, Dee keels over, arms clutching her stomach as she struggles to stay on her feet.

 

“What—what did you do to her?”

 

Zarkon picks up the camera and peers closely at it, turning it around several times before carefully setting it down in the same position it was in.

 

“We have her,” he says coldly, “the fire type. If you do not come with me now, I will kill her, and then I will kill you.” He walks over to Dee in smooth, calculated steps, and grabs her by the neck, pulling her up to face him. “If you pledge allegiance to the Galra Empire and forsake your lesser kin, I can guarantee her safety.”

 

Dee says nothing for a tense moment, and Keith wonders if she’ll actually go with him. He hopes she doesn’t.

 

_Me too._

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Dee’s hand moves faster than the camera can catch, just a dark brown blur that flies up towards Zarkon’s face. He lets go of her and turns away, one hand moving up to clutch at his face, dripping dark blood. Dee collapses onto the floor, and Keith can only see her shoulders and head, but it’s clear she’s in distress.

 

“Leah,” she mumbles weakly.

 

Zarkon’s shoulders shake with rage when he turns back, and his hand drops to his side to show a deep gash running vertically down the left side of his face. He takes two steps forward and bends down in front of Dee as she tries vainly to move away.

 

“I will enjoy seeing you suffer,” is all he says before reaching forward to grab Dee by the hair.

 

She screams, an ear-piercing wail that raises the hair along Keith’s arms and struggles against Zarkon’s grip, but the effort is futile. Zarkon stands up and, grip tight pulls Dee away to the left side of the screen. Just before he’s out of view he turns back, one bloodied eye visible and staring directly into the camera like he knows who’s watching.

 

He looks into the camera for several long moments, all while Dee claws at his arm and continues to scream.

 

Then, Zarkon turns back around, and leaves.

 

The sounds of Dee’s screaming become fainter and fainter, until they eventually cut out altogether and the video ends.

 

Pidge is the first to speak, turning off the hologram and setting the tablet down on the table.

 

“Wow, when I watched this I turned it off after that loud crash,” she says numbly, dropping down into an open seat at the table. “This whole thing just got about twenty times more creepy.”

 

There’s a long pause where nobody speaks.

 

“Who was that guy?” Hunk asks in a hushed voice. His eyes are a bit watery as he looks down at the table.

 

“That was Zarkon,” Allura says quietly. “He led the war with the Galra thousands of years ago. This must have happened before his death, and before the Galra went extinct. They live on in name only, now.”

 

Keith shifts around on his feet nervously. Zarkon is definitely not dead, but it’d be insane to think he’s been alive for thousands of years, right? Keith must have just misheard Allura or something.

 

“Well, I don’t think that helps us out with our problem right now,” Pidge says.

 

“Yeah,” Lance says casually, leaning back in his chair. “Also what’s a Galra?”

 

Allura looks away with a frown. “The Galra are unusually resistant to magic in all of its forms, and they have incredibly good hearing. The Alteans and the Galra went to war thousands of years ago, but the Galra were defeated and Zarkon was mortally wounded.”

 

Fuck, he didn’t mishear her.

 

“He’s still alive!” Keith blurts suddenly. “Shiro and I met him a while ago for some business thing.”

 

“What? That’s impossible.” Allura’s eyes widen and she steps away from Keith like he’s a dangerous animal. “What business could he possibly have with you and your brother?”

 

Keith shakes his head. “He owns Galra Industries. Shiro used to do business with him but he’s a huge asshole so he stopped.”

 

“But, how?” Allura raises a hand to her head and leans forward unsteadily. “This cannot be true.”

 

Pidge clears her throat and everyone turns her way. She holds up her phone for everyone to see the Galra Industries website, where Zarkon’s name is proudly displayed as the founder. “He’s right,” she says quietly.

 

Allura’s hands close into fists and her eyes narrow as she straightens.

 

“We must take him out before he can do significant damage,” she says firmly. “Zarkon is power hungry and will stop at nothing to achieve his goals.”

 

“How though?” Lance asks. “It’s not like we can waltz up to his house and tell him to stop.”

 

“I am not sure, but we must act in some way.” Allura starts heading towards the door, but she stops and turns back halfway there. “Lance, I’m sorry, but Zarkon threatens the safety of everyone here, not just magic-users. Once I take care of this, I’ll be able to help you, but right now I must inform Coran and formulate a plan of some sort.”

 

Lance shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, sure.” _Ugh, this is gonna suck._ “What’re we going to do while you tell Coran though? We’re helping take this guy out, right?”

 

Allura frowns over at Lance and shakes her head. “He is far too dangerous for any of you to fight. Coran and I will take care of Zarkon before the week is over, there is no need for you to risk being injured. Keith, your brother is approaching the castle. I think it would be best if you brought him in here so I can explain the situation; we will need all the information on him we can get.”

 

Keith starts heading towards the door. “Okay.” He follows Allura out of the library without looking back, but he does catch a sliver of conversation just before the door closes.

 

“—do this, Pidge. I know it.”

 

~

 

“This guy is actually dangerous,” Pidge says. “This isn’t some game.”

 

Lance groans and throws himself against the back of his chair. “I _know_ that, but I also know that you’re a hacker genius who can get into anything online with your crazy gadgets! Plus, we can’t just let Allura and Coran do this alone, especially if Zarkon’s been able to keep himself alive for thousands of years.”

 

Pidge frowns, but it’s weak and hesitant. She’s cracking; Lance just needs to push a little bit harder and she’ll give in now.

 

“But, I don’t even have magic,” she says, fiddling her thumbs as she looks to the floor.

 

Lance snorts and waves his hand dismissively. “So? Allura said that the Galra are resistant to magic, so we’re basically on the same level with magic. C’mon, Pidge, we can even go get Hunk to help us! With both of your brains, this guy won’t stand a chance, and Allura won’t be able to deny that you two are the perfect fit to help.”

 

Pidge sighs and her shoulders slump.

 

_Victory!_

 

“Alright, but—”

 

“Yes!” Lance jumps up and punches the air as he whoops loudly.

 

“ _But_ , we’re getting Hunk for sure,” Pidge says. “And we have to find a way to figure out what Allura and Coran are gonna do.”

 

Lance grins widely at his friend and crosses his arms confidently. “No problemo, Pidgey. You can just hack into the castle’s cameras so we can see what’s up, right?”

 

Pidge breaks out into a smile.

 

“Yeah, I could probably do that. Of course, I’d have to figure out the system the castle uses and learn it because it’s probably Altean, and then find a way to integrate my tech into it and get to the live feeds and audio without Coran or Allura finding out, and then—”

 

“Perfect! I know you can do it.” Lance wraps an arm around Pidge and leans all of his weight onto her. “Now all I gotta do is make sure that Hunk’s on board, and then we’ll be set. We’ll figure out Allura and Coran’s plan, follow them, and make our grand debut.”

 

Pidge steps away from Lance, making him stumble to the side and try to regain his balance by waving his arms wildly, but the smile is still there. She looks down at her hands and the smile turns into a grin.

 

When she looks up, there’s a wild glint in her eyes, hard and determined.

 

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rip I rewrote this chapter so many times I keep getting confused about what actually got into this 'final' draft. Please let me know if you find any mistakes or awkward wording, I barely read this over before posting.
> 
> Also, there will likely be a delay before I post chapter 4 because I have to actually write it and also because of Season 3!!
> 
> (shameless plug - fyi I'm writing another, fluffier fic the scent of strawberries! Chapters are much short because it's based off of a prompt and I'm much less serious about it than this, but it's been really fun to write! so check it out, if you want)


	4. Magic Types and Core Characteristics (so far)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to take a smidge more time to sort out what I'm actually trying to do with this fic, so here's a reference page for cores and magic-types so far, for my own reference and yours if your memory is as bad as mine. I'm also going to try and make sure that this next chapter breaks 10k words, so that's also why I'm taking more time to sort through the garbage dump that is my brain.
> 
> This was as proofread as chapter 3 btw, which means barely at all, so please let me know if anything reads weirdly or you find mistakes!

**_Magic Types and Core Characteristics_ **

  


Physical

 

Fire-Type (Keith, Leah)

Classification: Highly Unstable

Now Rare

 

Fire types(natural-born or not) are typically very emotionally charged magic-users. Fire-types tend to feel more than they think, although there are exceptions to this rule, and they can often be very outspoken about their worldviews and opinions. This can of course create strife and conflicts, but conflict is something nearly all fire-types excell in.

 

Fire-types express affinities for highly technical movements and sequences, and their magic flourishes in particularly destructive routines.

 

Typical core locations of fire types are in many of the vital locations, including the heart, lungs, ribcage, and stomach, with exclusions of the mind, head, and other stable locations. (Although it is highly uncommon for such a rare type, fire-types with their core located in their mind are highly powerful, combining their intense emotions with intellect and easy control over their magic.)

 

Fire-types are sometimes considered a sort of borderline between

  


Water-Type (Lance)

Classification: Average or Unstable

Now Rare

 

Water-types, once common but now highly rare, are capable of highly emotive behavior and achieving a state of intense concentration, although every user has a different range. Water-types generally express a powerful affinity for large bodies of water, and can typically double the power of their magic when immersed in aforementioned large bodies of water. Those with a special fondness for the life-giving liquid often turn to lakes, rivers, and oceans for help with particularly difficult sequences, as their control is much greater in those areas.

 

Due to the great variety, it is difficult to characterize water-types, as the recorded range is very high. This makes water-types very adaptable, although they typically do not have a narrow range of advanced skills. (It has been rumored that all water-types possess stunning regenerative abilities, but there is no concrete evidence to back up this theory as of yet.)

 

Nearly all core locations typical of general magic-types are common in water-types, with the exception of the more stable magic-types, examples being the shoulders and back.

  


Earth/Stone Type (Hunk-Earth, Shay-Stone)

Classification: Highly Stable

Now Semi-Common/Common

 

Due to their similarities, earth-types and stone-types are oft categorized together. Magic-users with this stable magic type show a love for the ground and usually dislike being away from it for extended periods of time. Despite being semi-common now, users with this type of magic are incredibly powerful on land, though this is weakened somewhat when they are off the ground or in water. Earth/Stone Types possess the most stable form of quintessence, and their quintessence itself has the least damaging effects on non-users, though it is possible to strike significant damage with battle techniques and sequences.

 

As a stable magic-type, earth and stone types have the widest range of typical characteristics, sharing only their balanced nature, and specific affinities have yet to be catalogued and examined.

 

The most common core locations for earth/stone types are the back, shoulders, ribcage, and stomach. The spine is less ordinary, but only marginally so. Earth/stone types can range in the grounded spectrum, but much less so than water-types.

 

Earth-types are more affiliated with the surface, while stone-types are more powerful underground, surrounded by their magic base.

  


Location-Specific

Location-specific magic is a special type of magic that is determined by the location of the magic-user’s core. This magic-type is categorized separately due to the definitive nature of those with this type of magic, and is not sorted under Miscellaneous/Unknown.

 

Mind-Specific (Allura, Coran)

Classification: Stable

Highly Rare

 

In the case of the mind, the rarest core location across all magic-types, core-specified magic can have average variety. Mind-specific magic is highly rare due to it being exclusive to those high-ranking magic-users originating from the Altean sector of the world, a small but powerful group spread out across the Earth.

 

Mind-specific magic is technically superior to nearly all other magic-types due to its easy manipulation, and it’s enhanced further in natural-born users. Mind-specific magic-users find it easy to learn a wide variety of techniques and sequences over very short periods of time, as the mind provides the easiest gateway for magic to be channeled and used through.

 

It has been concluded that, although the core location of mind-specific users is in the same place as the head, a mind-specific user does not possess a true core in the physical sense. Those with mind-specific cores are able to choose a location to withdraw quintessence from, but many find it easier close to vital organs. This is considered to be different from grayscale magic-users, but there is little evidence supporting this decision.

  


Miscellaneous/Unknown

 

Black-and-White-Type/Grayscale (Dee)

Classification: Unknown

Highly Rare

 

Not much is known about the aptly-named grayscale-type, due to it’s polar range and rarity. Once categorized as two separate magic-types, the grayscale magic-user possesses highly unique life-giving or life-taking abilities.

 

Although it’s still unknown how, grayscales have the ability to either give life to deceased lifeforms at the expense of their own quintessence, or take the quintessence of lifeforms to add to their own quintessence. It has been speculated whether or not there are grayscales who are able to do both, due to their uncommonality, but this is pure conjecture only.

 

Of the three recorded grayscales, little information is known, and they have often been classified as extinct due to the age of the records.

 

From the few records of grayscale magic-users, it has been agreed upon that they possess no core within their bodies, and it is their bodies themselves that house their quintessence. This makes learning magic potentially dangerous for young grayscales, as they seem to have trouble diluting their quintessence into easily-manipulated magic.

 

Their classification is unknown, but the three existing records of grayscales indicate that they are of average class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts on sunglasses, pops collar* I have no idea where I'm trying to go with this and all I can think about is season 3(no spoilers for now)
> 
>  
> 
> I expect to get tired enough of chapter 4 to just post it in ~one and a half weeks, btw, so expect something then, maybe.
> 
> Also just wanted to point out before I forget that when I talk about Lance's heart gettin' wild and Keith breathing heavily, I don't always mean in the literal sense. I'm usually talking about Lance's core when I say his heartbeat starts stuttering, he doesn't have arrhythmia or anything. Less so with Keith 'cause he's my angry son, but just keep in mind that they have magic, and it's an integrated part of both of their nervous/body systems.


	5. The Deep End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I didn't realize that this was pasting without the colors for Keith and Lance's thoughts I'm so sorry!!! orz
> 
> Anyways, I tried to go back and change it so that the opposite person(whoever's pov I'm not following at the moment) has underlined thoughts, so it's clear that they're separate, but I probably missed some places so if you see any please let me know!!! Anyways, I still don't really have my shit together with this fic but I'm starting an outline so there's actually some structure and hopefully better pacing smh

Lance digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket as he walks down the street, shivering in the breeze. Man, he’s really lost his tolerance for the cold, clearly evident in the way he shivers lightly as the sun starts to drop down towards the horizon. He hunches his shoulders as the street lights slowly flicker on, casting yellow-orange light over his back as walks over to Pidge’s apartment.

 

He lets himself into the building when he finally reaches it, digging out his copy of her apartment key and slipping inside quickly. It’s not much warmer in here, but at least the air is still, and he climbs the stairs two-at-a-time to try and warm himself up.

 

Just for the sake of courtesy, Lance knocks before letting himself into her cramped apartment, wincing at the squeal of the hinges as he pushes it open. Pidge yelled at Hunk for a good five minutes about entering her apartment without warning as he sometimes does, and Lance does not want that same fate for himself.

 

“Hey Pidge,” he calls, walking over to the kitchenette and opening the fridge to dig around for a snack. He shivers in the cold air of the appliance.

 

“Hey Lance, we’re over here.”

 

“Hey Lance,” Hunk calls.

 

Lance eventually settles for the last Redbull, cracking it open and taking a sip as he strolls down the short, narrow hallway leading to Pidge’s room. The ground is littered with wires and circuit boards of all kinds, and Lance has to jump over the three feet to stumble into her room, which is equally messy.

 

“Geez, Pidge, don’t you have any tables?” he asks, carefully picking his way over to the desk in the corner of the room. Pidge sits in a tiny swivel chair, with Hunk leaning over the back and looking at the screens of her two laptops.

 

“I don’t need tables,” she argues stubbornly.

 

“Fine, well, can I at least turn up the heat a little? Your room is freezing!”

 

Pidge turns to look at Lance shivering and clicks her tongue dismissively, tapping away on her phone with one thumb. “Just get a blanket; it needs to be cold or my prototypes will overheat.”

 

Lance grumbles under his breath but dutifully makes his way over to Pidge’s tiny bed behind the desk, grabbing the top blanket and pulling it over his shoulders before picking his way over. He leans over and peers at the laptops side-by-side on the desk. Each displays a different screen, showing overhead views of two hallways in the castle. He glances down over Pidge’s shoulder and catches a glimpse of her phone open to the messaging app for the tiny moment before she turns it off and tucks it into a pocket.

 

“Talkin’ to Matt?”

 

Pidge nods once, and in that tiny gesture, Lance can see her worry and irritation at battle with each other in her head.

 

“Yeah, he just finished one of his trips and he’s going on another one right now,” she says with a sigh, leaning to the side and resting her head in her hand against the arm of the chair.

 

Hunk makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat.

 

“He didn’t even stop by to visit or anything,” Pidge continues. “All I got was a text from him saying that he’s going off again somewhere and that he wouldn’t have wi-fi for a couple months.”

 

Lance reaches down to pat his friend on the shoulder. Pidge’s older brother Matt is oftentimes a mystery to all of them, Pidge the most. According to her, they used to be really close despite the large gap in their ages, all the way up until he graduated from the Garrison high school, and since has had little contact with anyone in the Holt family excluding their father for almost two years.

 

And yet, even those interactions increased in rarity after that first year, until Matt became something of a mystery to everyone. Lance remembers a time a couple months ago when he’d stopped by to visit.

 

Pidge had been ecstatic and hyperactive in the days leading up to it, and Lance remembers himself and Hunk getting just as hyped up as her about it. But that just made the depressingly short reunion that much worse.

 

Matt had shown up at the front door of Pidge’s apartment, and stayed for a grand total of two minutes. He’d barely said anything other than that he wanted to stay but couldn’t because of vague reasons Lance can’t even remember. Pidge and Matt had hugged for a short moment, but then Matt had taken his leave almost immediately after. He didn’t step foot into the apartment once.

 

Pidge was surprised (and hurt) by his short visit, but she also had the foresight to prepare. She’d somehow gotten a hold of Matt’s phone during their tiny interaction, and was later able to hack into it to try and find out what Matt was up to for so long.

 

He had only texted the family and two other people, and those all stopped after that first year. In his notes app he’d typed out a message for Pidge, saying that he’d made himself untraceable (later confirmed by Pidge) and that he needed to sort out some things for himself, but that he’d be back.

 

And that was literally it. The texts he’d sent to Pidge and the rest of the family were nothing new, and the few texts he’d sent to the two unnamed numbers contained nothing but pleasant trivialities.

 

Pidge had of course pushed on stubbornly to find some trace, some clue as to the location or going-ons of her brother, but there was nothing. None of her facial recognition software found his face in any news outlets around the world, and her ongoing internet search still hasn’t turned up any decisive results.

 

Lance gives her shoulder a comforting squeeze while Hunk does the same on her other side, and she bows her head deeply for a long moment before straightening. She’s not smiling when she lifts her head, but she’s not frowning either at least, so Lance knows he and Hunk helped just a tiny bit.

 

“Okay, so I’ve already looked through the footage, but there isn’t a whole lot,” Pidge says, pressing a few keys on both laptops. The timestamps on the videos speed up for a few seconds before slowing back to normal. “This is when Allura and Keith are telling Shiro what’s up.”

“The man you know as Lord Zarkon is not who you think he is,” Allura says to a surprised Shiro. “He is a terrible man who is thousands of years old, and he’s responsible for the deaths of countless magic-users and non-users alike.”

 

“I—what? How?” Shiro looks between Keith and Allura with wide eyes, arms lifting defensively.

 

“I know it sounds crazy, but she’s right,” Keith insists. “Trust me.”

 

“Yes, and I must take him out before he can cause more damage,” Allura continues. “Who knows what he’s been up to all this time. I need you to tell me everything you can about him.”

 

Shiro slowly relaxes, but not by much. Lance notices that his right hand twitches every few seconds (a nervous tick?), but he moves it behind his back and outside Allura and Keith’s line of sight.

 

“What has he done?”

 

“Zarkon started a terrible war with the Altean magic-users thousands of years ago, ruthlessly killing thousands upon thousands of users. We thought we won, but he somehow survived, and found a way to increase his lifespan up to today.” Allura looks away at the ground, half-turning away from Shiro and Keith. “I had always wondered why it was only Coran and I in the castle. He must be trying to eradicate us all…”

 

Shiro’s forehead creases. “How are you planning on taking him out?”

 

The corners of Allura’s mouth turn down. “I don’t know yet, but it must be soon. That is why I need to gather as much information on him as I can. Until now, I believed him to be dead, with the Galra name the only living remnants of that war.”

 

“Galra? That’s—”

 

Shiro takes a step back and his eyes glaze over. His left hand moves to clutch at his prosthetic arm and he turns away from Keith and Allura.

 

“Shiro!”

 

Keith rushes forward, but Shiro waves him away, taking another step back as his prosthetic begins to glow purple-white.

 

“Woah,” Lance murmurs, eyes round as marbles.

 

“Yeah,” is all Pidge says.

 

“Stay back—ugh!” Shiro hisses in pain and shields his arm, grimacing and falling to his knees with a dull thump. “I—”

 

“What is happening to him?” Allura demands, head whipping around to look at Keith.

 

“I don’t know.” Lance’s heart tightens at the panic in Keith’s voice, and he watches with bated breath as Keith tries to reach forward again.

 

This time it’s Allura who stops him, pulling him back by his left shoulder and taking his place. Her arms raise in a calming gesture as she steps forward carefully, eyes locked on Shiro’s glowing arm. Her eyes are dark with quiet rage, simmering up close to the surface.

 

“Shiro, how did you get that prosthetic?” Thinly veiled in her tone is a warning.

 

“I—I can’t—I can’t remember.”

 

“He got it in a car accident leaving the Galra Estate,” Keith spits. “What does this have to do with anything?”

 

Allura’s eyes widen and the anger leaves her eyes in a flash. She steps towards Shiro, heedless of his attempts to get her to move away, and reaches out.

 

Her hands glow pink and her mouth moves but no sound comes out.

 

Lance squints down at the screen, trying to lipread and find out what spell she’s reciting, but the camera’s at a weird angle and he can’t discern anything. Still, it seems to be having the desired effect on Shiro, who slowly relaxes, though his muscles remain tensed.

 

Allura placed two shining hands on his arms and kneels beside him, gingerly taking the part of his prosthetic not glowing into her arms. She leans close to examine it, still reciting the spell, before very slowly reaching out and placing her hand onto the bright purple.

 

She winces in pain and Shiro’s eyes widen.

 

There’s a very faint hiss of something burning, but only for a moment, because Shiro’s arm stops glowing a second later.

 

Allura finishes her spell and her hands lose their glow. She lets go of Shiro’s arm and moves back a polite distance.

 

“Are you alright, Shiro?”

 

Shiro rubs at his temples with his left hand, eyes clouded over in confusion. “I—I think so,” he says hesitantly. “I just remembered something.”

 

“Do you know any Galra other than Zarkon?”

 

“What are Galra, exactly?”

 

“They are a special race of people resistant to magic, utilizing a certain technology activated by their DNA. Your arm was made by a Galran. You can feel things with it as if it was a biological arm, right?”

 

Shiro nods.

 

“Then whoever made this for you is working under Zarkon.” Allura stands and offers Shiro a hand to help him to his feet. He takes it reluctantly with his left hand, and she hauls him up easily.

 

“Wait, so if only Galra can use that technology, how can Shiro use his arm?” Keith crosses his arms tightly as he looks at Shiro’s arm.

 

His question gives Allura pause.

 

“I’m not sure. Perhaps this is a new technology the Empire has. My calming spell worked perfectly.”

 

_Oh, that’s what it was._

 

“Whatever the case, it seems that whatever you remembered was triggered when I named the Galra.” Allura’s eyes soften. “Perhaps it is better you aren’t involved in this.”

 

“No, I’m fine. Zarkon is a terrible person, and if you need my information to take him down, then I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

 

“Are you sure?” Keith asks, shoulders tensing as Shiro’s straightens up.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

The footage speeds up as all three start walking down the hallway, cameras changing perspective every few seconds until they enter the library, where they sit at the table and presumably start talking.

 

“Hey, why are you speeding it up?” Lance asks, frowning down at Pidge in the chair. She pauses the video sometime after Allura pulls up the hologram and plays that second video, freezing right at Shiro’s horrified expression as Zarkon appears.

 

“I have to paraphrase this part or we’ll be here all night,” she says simply. “All Shiro has is the general layout of Zarkon’s Estate and business information, really. There’s also whatever his glowy arm is made of, but they can’t figure anything out because it’s Galra tech.”

 

Hunk frowns down at the frozen image on the screens. “What about their plan? They made one, right? Or are they waiting to get more information? ‘Cause I would not want to fight this guy with just that much data on him.”

 

“Yeah, we can watch that part. It’s, ahem, pretty bad, in my opinion.” The video speeds up again, but slower than before. Lance keeps his gaze away from the hologram, and instead watches everyone’s reaction.

 

He looks equal parts disgusted and horrified, and when Lance glances over at Keith, he’s sitting in one of the chairs with his head turned down. His arms are crossed tightly. Allura watches with pursed lips and a determined set of her eyebrows, low and angry.

 

The video speeds past the video and Allura turns to Shiro. Her arms raise in gestures and Shiro says something back, while Keith seems to say nothing.

 

Pidge clicks a button on one of the laptops and the video slows down to its normal speed.

 

“—nothing,” Shiro’s saying.

 

Allura leans her hands on the table and sighs loudly. “It can’t be helped, Shiro. Do you think you could schedule a meeting with him outside his Estate? Perhaps under the guise of continuing business with him?”

 

Shiro looks down at his prosthetic.

 

“We didn’t part on good terms, but I can try.”

 

“He’s a fucking snake!” Keith yells. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere near him, there’s no way he’s not responsible for your arm.”

 

Lance can’t help but agree with Keith; it feels a bit too soon for Shiro to do something like that, what with whatever he’d remembered when Allura brought up the Galra.

 

“Keith,” Shiro warns.

 

“You heard him at that last meeting, Shiro. There’s no way he wasn’t involved somehow!”

 

“Keith!”

 

“I must agree with Keith,” Allura says. “It would likely be in your best interest to stay away from Zarkon, but this is a matter beyond any individual person here. The world is in danger as long as Zarkon’s still alive and free to do whatever he wishes. We must take him down.”

 

Shiro nods decisively, and Keith scowls darkly but says nothing.

 

“I can get back in contact with him and try to arrange a meeting, but he might not take the bait.”

 

Allura stands. “Just try your best. If you succeed, get him to meet you in a public place, and notify me of the time and place. Keith, it will be safer if you are with him too, with your magic. I can teach you some defensive moves if something goes wrong, and you’ll be able to get Shiro and yourself out of danger.”

 

“What about you?” Shiro asks.

 

“It is my duty to do whatever I can to take Zarkon out,” Allura says. “I will stay, no matter the circumstances, and fight.”

 

“I—okay. The soonest I’ll be able to get this meeting will be over the weekend. Is that enough time?”

 

Allura smiles, but there’s only a little bit of warmth in the movement. Her eyes glint with ferocious intensity.

 

“It’s plenty.”

 

“Holy crow.” Lance stares at the paused screens with his jaw dropped and eyes wide.

 

“Oh my gosh,” Hunk echoes.

 

Only Pidge seems mostly unaffected, but when she swivels around in the chair to face them, she shifts uncomfortably. Lance understands how she feels; Allura’s terrifying when she wants to be.

 

“Anyways, that’s their plan,” she says, removing the glasses tucked into her shirt and wiping away smudges on the lenses only to tuck them right back in when she’s done. “Shiro and Keith are meeting Zarkon to rekindle their ‘business relations’ this Sunday at some restaurant a little over an hour away.”

 

“That’s a terrible plan,” Hunk says intently. “How is Allura going to take this guy out by herself? Wait, Coran’s going too, right? He’s fighting with her?”

 

Pidge shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s only told him that Zarkon’s back, as far as I know.”

 

“Oh my gosh she’d better be going with him at least!”

 

“No, Allura can be really stubborn,” Lance says. “She’ll probably go by herself but I’m pretty sure Coran will follow her just in case. We need to find a way for her to let us all help.”

 

Pidge swivels back to face the laptops, brow knitting together. “I don’t know. You guys saw that video, this guy is terrifying. And if what Shiro and Keith said is true, then he’s super powerful, and I’m sure he’s somehow able to use magic if he’s been able to keep himself alive all this time.”

 

Lance looks down as Hunk wholeheartedly agrees.

 

She’s right, of course. Zarkon is ruthless, and what he did to that girl in the video, Dee, is horrific and sickening. It’d be safer for all of them to stay out of it, but Lance’s stomach turns at the thought of Zarkon being able to do what he’d done to Dee and get away with it.

 

“This is exactly why we have to get involved,” he says, running a hand through his short bangs. “We have to stop this guy, and there’s no way Allura can do this on her own, we know that. Who knows what would happen to her if she fought Zarkon and lost?”

 

Pidge and Hunk are silent for a few moments, likely thinking back to that video. Lance shivers and pulls Pidge’s blanket tighter around his shoulders, rubbing his blanketed hands together to try and warm them up.

 

“Lance is right,” Hunk says. His eyebrows lower. “We can’t let this guy get away with what he’s done. I’m in.”

 

Lance smiles at Hunk, who returns it despite the hard set of his features.

 

“Fine. I’m in too,” Pidge says after a long pause, turning around in her chair to face Lance and Hunk again. “But we need a plan, and it has to be way better than Allura’s. Any ideas?”

 

Lance can’t help the smirk that pulls the corners of his cheeks.

 

“Plenty.”

 

~

Keith actually kind of regrets trying to shut out Lance, which is was a bit surprising at first, but in hindsight an incredibly predictable outcome.

 

He’d gotten a couple of small commissions that he’d wanted to get done, and he was not going to let himself get distracted by Lance. So to solve that problem, he’d put in his only pair of headphones—earbuds, actually—and blasted music very loudly to drown out Lance’s thoughts. He made sure to choose songs that didn’t have much in the way of vocals, just in case he thought about them too much and said something to Lance.

 

And it had worked, very well. Lance’s voice was lost in the sea of orchestral music and technopop and many other genres that Keith doesn’t really listen to. He doesn’t listen to music often anyways, but it wasn’t too bad of an experience when he was working.

 

That had been several hours ago, and Keith’s ears have yet to stop ringing incessantly. It’s actually quite a bit more annoying than Lance’s voice bouncing around in his skull.

 

Keith bumps down the thermostat just outside the kitchenette a few degrees, peeling off his sweaty gloves and tossing them in the general direction of the washing machine across the room. Even though he hasn’t been outside for longer than a combined five minutes, the heat of the day’s really getting to him, which is kinda weird, since he’s lived in the desert for several years when he was younger. He’s probably just losing his tolerance.

 

 _Yeah, that makes sense_ , he thinks, stretching his cramped fingers. He very slowly prepares the coffee machine next to the fridge, trying to ignore the ache in his right wrist. Maybe he should start wearing his brace again…

 

 _This coffee better not come out cold again._ He smashes a finger onto the buttons on top and waits for a response from the old machine.

 

_Oh man, and just when I thought we got rid of this mind-connection-thingy._ Lance’s voice is crystal clear above the ringing, which seems to fade when he ‘speaks’ and then come back when he stops.

 

Ugh, right. _Nope, still here._

 

_Yeah, I noticed. Anyways, could you keep it down on your end for a little while longer? I have stuff to do._

 

 _Sorry for intruding_ , Keith deadpans. He works out the cricks in his neck as the coffee machine slowly comes to life.

 

 _ You’ll be forgiven if you let me do my thing, _ is the immediate response.  _This isn’t baby stuff like sensing and channeling._

 

Keith perks up at the mention of magic, but he tries not to think anything of it. Then he glances over at the clock on the ratty microwave on the counter and sees the time.

 

_You’re practicing magic at one am?_

 

_Not another thought, Keith. You’re making yourself coffee._

 

_Oh, right._

 

_Uh, yeah. Is your mullet infecting your common sense?_

 

Keith scowls as the coffee machine dies, and chooses not to respond to _that_ comment. Whatever, if Lance wants to practice magic, so be it. He pours himself a lukewarm cup of coffee and sips it lightly as he walks over to the door. He grabs his jacket from the tiny closet beside it, but only drapes it over his arm.

 

He leaves an empty mug in the sink as he exits his apartment building, turning down the first street towards the boardwalk.

 

_Wow, she’s so cool._

 

Keith frowns as he walks under the light of the streetlamps, looking up at the sky. He distantly wonders who Lance is thinking about.

 

Thin, wispy clouds drift across the black sky, slow and lazy in the cool night. The stars look far away.

 

_Okay, one more time, and then I’ll see if I can copy that._

 

Keith reaches the boardwalk a few minutes later, and then the stars seem to draw closer, peering down at Keith with curious winks. The clouds drift away behind Keith as he steps onto the wood, just a little bit closer to the water than he normally would be.

 

The quiet slosh of water easily overtakes the ringing, which fades and fades until he can’t really tell whether or not it’s still there or he’s just imagining it. Either way, he’s glad.

 

Now if only he would stop sweating—it’s the middle of the night and definitely not _that_ warm.

 

_Alright, so wide stance… deep breaths… steady core, probably._

 

Keith’s steps falter at the sudden intrusion of Lance’s voice in his head. All around him the boardwalk is quiet, with nobody else around except for him. He wonders what magic thing Lance is trying out, and if he’s alone too.

 

_Steady, steady… shoot! Ugh come_ on _Lance, you’ve done this before._

 

 _Doesn’t sound like it_ , Keith thinks automatically. He winces right after, realizing his mistake, and waits for the inevitable consequences of breaking Lance’s concentration. But there’s no response from him at all—maybe he’s too ‘in the zone’ right now?

 

_Okay, okay. You’re fine. Steady, and shape… shit!_

 

Keith’s heart squeezes in time with Lance’s loud swear, and he freezes in place, reaching up to grab at his heart. His breathing is thrown off immediately and for several long moments his ragged breaths are the only thing he can hear. The ringing is entirely nonexistent.

 

Slowly, the feeling fades, leaving Keith wondering just what Lance just tried to do, because he’s sure he doesn’t have heartburn, and something about the way the fire in his lungs reacts is telling him that what just happened is connected to his magic. He keeps walking down the boardwalk—albeit a little further away from the ocean—and tries to regain the quiet of the night.

 

 _Whew, that was close_ , Lance thinks. Keith can easily imagine him sighing in relief. _Okay, so I probably didn’t feel it enough, yeah. Allura’s always talking about feeling it and weird stuff like that, so maybe I just have to do it like I did last time?_

 

_But then I almost died last time._

 

Keith almost chokes on his breath. Was that why Lance was breathing smoke when he ran Keith over at the farmer’s market? The fire in Keith’s lungs burns hot and he wipes away a bead of sweat from his forehead.

 

_I should rewatch this a few more times… maybe then I’ll be able to do it._

 

Keith agrees wholeheartedly, but he makes sure not to ‘voice' that. Lance goes quiet, and then Keith is left by himself to walk along the boardwalk and watch the stars. There’s a low hiss simmering in his core, patient flames waiting for something—Keith has no idea what that something is, though.

 

 _Soon_ , the voice whispers.

 

 _But when?_ Keith asks disparagingly.

 

_When what?_

 

Keith jumps and stops walking. _Nothing,_ he thinks bitterly. _You wouldn’t understand._

 

_Hate to break it to you, but if it’s magical, I probably do. I was kinda born with it._

 

 _You’ll just think I’m crazy._ Keith turns around and starts heading back. He has another lesson with Allura tomorrow, so he should probably start heading back. Then again, he’s been getting the hang of this whole magic thing pretty quickly.

 

_Try me._

 

_I’d really rather not._

 

_C’mon, Keith, just tell me. Even_ I _know that magic is crazy, and I was born with it!_

 

Keith doesn’t respond.

 

_Keith, tell me. Tell me what it is. I already think you’re crazy, don’t worry. Come on, tell me._

 

_No._

 

_Why not?_

 

_Because._

 

_'Because' what? I’ll stop nagging you if you just tell me._

 

Keith groans in frustration.

 

_There’s a fucking voice in my core saying weird shit, alright?_

 

There’s a long silence for a few seconds, and Keith thinks he’s finally managed to make Lance speechless. But then,  _Hah hah Keith, very funny._

 

_I’m serious! It happened a few days ago, just a couple minutes ago, and I’m pretty sure it happened right before I passed out in the woods._

 

Silence. Keith is starting to regret talking about that voice very much. He grits his teeth as he stomps back onto the street towards his apartment building.

 

_Holy crow Keith oh my god I get it now!_ Keith winces at the volume.  _You said the voice was coming from your core, right? Your lungs? Oh my god this means you have one too! This is so crazy I thought I was weird for having Blue but I’m not!_

 

_Blue?_

 

_That’s just what I call her._

 

_Her?! These things are people now?!_

 

_No! Well, I don’t think so at least. Blue’s never talked to me about having a physical body or anything, she just hangs around and chills sometimes._

 

 _Uh huh…_ Keith is starting to regret his decisions a lot more, because now he’s way more confused about all this stuff than he was before.

 

_Don’t ‘uh huh’ me Keith, I’m telling the truth. I have a little voice in my core that talks to me and stuff, and now you do too, I guess._

 

_Why?_

 

_What makes you think I_   _know? I haven’t even told Allura about Blue yet, so you know as much as me right now._

 

_Can’t you just ask ‘Blue’ what it is?_

 

There’s a bout of silence.  _That’s not how it works, Keith. Blue’s the one that always initiates. I ‘speak into the void’ or whatever and sometimes she answers._

 

Keith turns into his building and unlocks the door with his key, stepping into the stairwell. His walk feels like it was cut very short. _Well, can you do it now?_

 

There’s no response, and Keith feels that fire in his chest swell with frustration.

 

_Answer me, Lance!_

 

_I’m busy. Stop distracting me, Keith!_

 

“You’re insufferable,” Keith mutters under his breath, hands clenched into fists as he angrily makes his way to his apartment.

 

_I heard that._

 

_You were meant to._

 

It frustrates Keith more than he’d like to admit that Lance doesn’t rise to the bait and instead ignores him outright. He dumps his jacket in the closet and takes a long, cold shower, but he’s still upset and still feels gross when he’s done. He goes to sleep with a deep scowl and thinks that maybe his trick with the earbuds was actually a good idea after all.

 

~

 

“Ugh, just listen to me!” Lance whisper-yells at his core. “I need to do this technique or Allura won’t let us help her, you _know_ that.”

 

Silence.

 

He tries again, steadying his uncertain heartbeat and pulling out his quintessence to his hands. The magic follows his mind’s commands easily, filling his arms with icy-hot energy as it flows up to where his hands rest, folded neatly in front of his chest. He squishes the quintessence in his hands like putty, soft and malleable. That’s the easy part, the only thing he can do easily anymore, in fact.

 

The hard part is what comes next.

 

Lance turns to the laptop sitting on his bed, paused at the perfect angle of Allura practicing her own battle forms, showcasing a bright pink whip that she wields easily in the training room. He’s watched her form it probably twenty times now, and he still has no idea how she gets her quintessence into that shape.

 

He smashes the globs of quintessence in his hands into one mass, and then tries to stretch it out, aiming for a whip-like weapon like Allura has. His brows are knitted in concentration as he pulls and pulls at the magic, but no matter what he does, it stays in its amorphous blob shape.

 

_Why isn’t it working?_

 

Lance’s focus slips and the quintessence, no longer held in place by his mind, rushes back into his core, lunging for his chest and seeping through to his heart painfully quickly. He staggers to the side from the whiplash of almost half of his magic entering his body within a matter of seconds. The pain reminds him of what he went through at his last ‘lesson’ with Allura, but it’s not nearly as bad as then.

 

The feeling diminishes quickly, but not before squeezing out a few choice words from Lance’s gritted teeth against his will. He regains his balance and slams down the screen of his laptop in frustration.

 

How was it that Allura could make that whip so easily, but Lance is having major issues shaping his quintessence into anything even remotely similar? (He knows what the problem really is, deep down, but that makes Lance’s heart drop into his stomach and fills that empty space with cold dread so he doesn’t think about it.)

 

Lance falls back onto the bed with a sigh, messing up his blankets and pulling them close around his shoulders. He’s made sure that the heating is on full blast in his room, but he still feels just a little bit too cold for comfort.

 

 _Stupid Keith, this is probably all his fault_ , Lance thinks crossly. If he hadn’t happened then Lance wouldn’t even need to be trying to copy Allura’s battle sequences and forms in the middle of the night. He’d still have all his magic too.

 

(But if Keith hadn’t been there for Lance to run over, then none of them would know about Zarkon, and he’d be able to do whatever he wanted with no consequences whatsoever. That thought hurts the most.)

 

Lance’s eyes soon start to drift shut, a combination of lack of sleep and intense practicing in secret. He just manages to scoot his laptop over onto the bedside table before he curls back up in his thick blankets and falls asleep.

 

He stands in a dark blue cavern that arches high above his head into darkness. It’s larger than anything Lance has ever seen, with organic ridges along the walls and the scent of dampness seeping up into his nostrils.

 

The ground slopes downwards towards a massive, gaping hole that leads to a place Lance can’t really see. He slowly makes his way down, wary of the almost organic structure he’s in, and looks out into the huge open space from a safe distance.

 

In the hole is another cavern, but this one seems smaller from what he can tell. There’s what looks to be a deep lake at the bottom, washing against the sides of the hollow like waves. The cavern slopes forward and down, and Lance feels a tug from somewhere within his being.

 

He steps out into the hole without a second thought, and falls. The water is icy cold when Lance breaks the surface, but it’s not too bad, actually. He shudders a little and lays flat on his back once he swims back up to the top, spreading his arms and legs out so he can just float there. It’s nice and peaceful despite the cold, and Lance happily splashes the water around with his hands until he opens his eyes and sees the other hole.

 

This one it right beside the one Lance is sure he came in through, and it disappears into midnight depths that Lance’s eyes can’t penetrate.

 

_I wonder where that one goes._

 

As soon as the thought enters Lance’s head, the lake trembles with energy. The gentle rocking of the waves grow choppy, and there’s a thunderous boom from all around him. Lance yelps in surprise as a wave of cold washes over his body, and moves so that he’s treading water. It’s really tiring, much more than Lance remembers, and he struggles to stay above the waves as they grow in size and intensity.

 

He’s so busy trying to keep his head above the water that he only notices that the water is rising when he looks up and that other hole is suddenly much closer. Lance’s body is buffeted by an icy gust of wind and ice water, and he shivers violently at the cold. He turns in the water, gasping for breath, and catches sight of a massive tidal wave heading his way. His eyes sting from the water and he struggles to take deep breaths.

 

The wave hits him as he closes his eyes and turns away, and he’s pulled along by the water like a paper boat in a river. He very faintly registers another boom through the water, ear-piercing even as he presses his numb hands over his ears.

 

His body suddenly leaves the water, and he flies up and up and up, curled into a cold ball, until his back hits the interior of the cavern and he lands on dry ground, some steep slope. It doesn’t hurt as much as it maybe should.

 

Lance waits a full five seconds before he cracks open an eye and looks around, trying to regain his bearings. He’s on a slope, just like he’d felt when he landed. It’s almost like a cave, pushing close to vertical and into darkness. Below Lance is that lake again, only it looks almost like it’s shrinking?

 

What? That can’t be right.

 

But it is. The water sinks down into the cavern, retreating away from the cave-thing Lance stands in now until it looks very far away. The waves are completely docile, as if they weren’t just tossing him around like a sack of potatoes, and he has to lean away after a moment because of the dizzying vertigo.

 

Lance turns around and looks up into the darkness of the steep cavern looming above his head.

 

_Well, looks like there’s only one way to go._

 

~

 

Keith stares down the red shadow standing in his path, trying desperately hard not to let go of the tiny thread of self-control he has left. The shadow wavers in the light from the pools of red behind it, and longing swells up in Keith’s chest not for the first time since he caught sight of them.

 

“Why can’t I go in?” He asks for the fifth time. “This place is mine, I _know_ it is.” And he does know, can feel some tug he’s never felt before but says that he’s welcome, that he belongs in that place. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but frankly, he doesn’t care all that much if he can just get past this _thing_ standing in his way.

 

The thing in question blinks open two glowing red eyes, and Keith is taking a step back before he’s aware he’s moving at all, staring directly at its distinctly feline eyes. The sharp, biting wind starts up again, pushing Keith’s bangs out of his face as the air moves up into the darkness above him.

 

 _You own nothing that is here_ , it snarls, low and feminine and very, very dangerous. _In order to find a place here, you must_ earn _it. All that you see behind me is mine, and all that you can_ do _comes from me._

 

“I—what?” Keith takes another step back as the shadow moves forward. His back hits the wall of the tall cavern and the shadow does not stop moving forward. But, just before it reaches Keith, it pauses. It’s glowing eyes swivel back to face the red lake on Keith’s left, visible even through its dark fog.

 

The thick, red water ripples wildly and the shadow disappears just before a head breaks through the surface, gasping for air. It’s Lance. Keith runs up to the edge of the lake and watches as Lance coughs for several long seconds as he treads water. He pushes his short bangs out off of his forehead and that’s when he sees Keith. His eyes widen.

 

“Keith?!” Lance easily swims over to the edge of the lake and pulls himself out, sending sprays of red in every direction. “What are _you_ doing here?”

 

“I don’t know, I just got here!”

 

Lance squints over at Keith as he wrings out his soggy jacket, as if he thinks he’s lying or something. “Uh huh, sure.”

 

“Anyways, why are _you_ here?” Keith asks, looking behind Lance at the red water he’d emerged from.

 

“You think _I_ know? I woke up in some weird cave with a lake that brought me to another cave that brought me here where I almost drowned. Seriously, how deep is this lake? I swear I was swimming for like two minutes!”

 

Keith eyes Lance skeptically. “I don’t know.”

 

“Well thanks, that really he—”

 

Lance freezes with his eyes directed just over Keith’s shoulder, round and fearful. Keith turns, and finds himself face-to-face with that weird shadow again. It’s red eyes are narrow with suspicion, but they stay trained on Keith, not Lance.

 

 _You must earn the right to use what is here,_ it growls lowly. _You must prove yourself worthy of my trust._

 

“What does that even mean?” The relief from the shadow not repeating itself as much is overwhelmed by frustration. “How do I do that?”

 

“Do what?” Lance asks from behind Keith’s back. “Are you talking to that shadow thing? What _is_ that?”

 

Keith’s shoulders tense but he doesn’t take his eyes away from the shadow’s. “Yes, Lance, can’t you hear it?”

 

“Hear what? You’re the only one talking. Hey, it kinda looks like some demonic embodiment of your mullet-hair-thing you got goin’ on.”

 

_What? Can he not hear it talking?_

 

 _He cannot hear me_ , the shadow answers. Y _ou must prove yourself worthy to use all that is here or you will never progress_. The shadow’s red eyes disappear and it retreats into the other lake. The water around it ripples and moves as if the shadow is a solid thing, and soon that lake is filled with gentle movement.

 

“Never mind,” Keith grumbles, turning back around to face Lance.”It’s nothing.”

 

But Lance seems to have already moved on, crouched next to the red water and running his hands through it curiously.

 

“Hey, why’s the water red here?” he asks without turning around. “It was blue at the lake I was in earlier, but this is red.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Lance hums his acknowledgement. “Well aren’t you full of answers?”

 

Keith moves to crouch next to the water, mimicking Lance, and turns his head down, deciding not to answer.

 

“Okay then.” Lance stands up and brushes invisible dust from his jeans. “Well, this has been fun, but I think I’m going to head back to my normal lake now, this is kinda weirding me out.”

 

Keith ignores the insult. “How are you going to do that? How did you even get in here in the first place?”

 

Lance shrugs nonchalantly.

 

“I was in a cave and there were a bunch of little smaller caves so I went into one and then fell into this lake. I think.”

 

“Right.”

 

“‘Right’ is right. I’ll just have to swim down until I find it again.” Lance sounds absurdly confident for having ‘almost drowned’ in the same lake not five minutes before, but he hesitates before stepping back into the water.

 

“Didn’t you say you were under there for two minutes before?” Keith asks as Lance starts wading in. “How are you even going to get down that far?”

 

“Yeah but that’s just ‘cause I wasn’t ready. And I used to swim in the ocean all the time at home, so this’ll be a piece of cake.”

 

Before Keith can reply, Lance takes a deep breath and disappears under the surface of the red lake, leaving only a handful of bubbles that rise up to the surface in his wake. Keith shudders as another gust of strong wind blows against his back, forcing him to stumble forward a step into the water.

 

_It is time for you to go._

 

“What?” Keith whirls around, but the shadow’s voice isn’t coming from behind him.

 

 _Earn my trust, and all that you see you will be able to use._ The voice echoes around the cavern several times, rattling around in Keith’s skull loudly before disappearing altogether just moments later.

 

The last thing Keith hears is the rush of a powerful wind at his back, sending ripples across the water behind him.

 

~

 

Lance inspects his nails as he waits by the front door for Keith to arrive. He’s actually in a good mood today—surprising given the current circumstances, but he’ll take it—so he’d accepted Allura’s suggestion of bringing Keith to the training room once he arrives without complaining. He’s already in his own training uniform, but he’s taken off that annoying cape and opted for one of the winter-style designs, with thick longsleeves that keep his arms comfortably warm in the castle.

 

He won’t lie to himself: he’s more than a little bit nervous about today’s magic lesson. Instead of Lance helping Allura teach Keith formally as he’d been taught, he’ll be assisting her in training Keith in a few defensive magic techniques. Allura had been dodgy when explaining why, and Lance had to pretend that he didn’t know anything about her plan to ambush Zarkon during a business meeting with Shiro. He made sure to poke at her flimsy excuses, but he didn’t press too hard.

 

Lance’s chest feels tight with petty jealousy that Keith’s already going to be learning cool magic on his second day of lessons, but he tries to push it away. Just the feeling of jealousy and envy brings back memories he’d rather not think about, especially with his weird mental connection with Keith that’s being pushes to the backburner for this whole Zarkon ordeal.

 

A sharp knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts, and he pushes off from the wall to open the door.

 

Keith and Shiro stand in front of the door, both dressed casually. Lance gives Shiro a questioning look but waves them both in without a word. Keith is already starting down the hallway in the general direction of the training room with brisk strides, while Shiro trails behind, taking his time. Lance catches up with some quick steps of his own and takes the lead, turning down the hallway towards the uniform room.

 

“So you’re sitting in on this lesson?” he asks Shiro, keeping his tone carefully mild as he opens the door to the uniform room. Keith walks in like he’s been there a thousand times, walking straight to the back and digging around for his uniform. Lance’s chest tightens with envy and he grits his teeth as he waits outside.

 

“Yeah, this whole magic thing is really fascinating, and I figured I should get used to it all sooner than later.” Shiro smiles in a friendly manner, but Lance is sure he can hear the faintest trace of a lie in his voice.

 

“It is,” he says simply.

 

A moment later, Keith walks out, dressed in the same uniform as last time, complete with the weird cape and sleeveless design. It’s actually a really good look, and Lance is surprised he hadn’t noticed sooner. Must have been his weird hair.

 

“Alright hothead and Shiro, let’s go,” he says amicably, turning on his heel and starting off towards the training room. Keith and Shiro walk a few feet behind him, talking quietly amongst themselves, while Lance walks alone. _I wonder what Hunk and Pidge are working on..._

 

Allura and Coran are waiting in the training room when they arrive, and they both smile brightly at Keith when he enters after Lance.

 

“Welcome back Keith,” Allura greets with a nod. She turns to Shiro. “I hope you’re ready to see some magic today, Shiro. Keith shows the potential to be a master magic-user, with the right guidance and teaching, of course.”

 

Allura moves to the center of the room and Keith follows, trailing by Lance more than a few feet behind. Shiro takes up a spot beside Coran near the wall, who turns and greets him in a similar manner.

 

“Now as you know, today you will be learning defensive magic, in the event of any er, future emergencies,” Allura starts. She unbuttons her own cape and tosses it towards the wall before turning back towards Keith. “Defensive magic can be very simple when it only involves yourself, but what we will be focusing on is magic used to defend another person as well.”

 

 _Oh no_ , Lance thinks, _no way._

 

Allura rolls out her shoulders and cracks her knuckles, shifting her weight around the balls of her feet quickly to warm up. “The first thing you will learn is warping.”

 

“What?!” Lance yells. He steps forward as Allura turns to face him with raised eyebrows.

 

 _Shoot, she’s in teaching mode right now._ But it’s too late, because Lance has challenged Allura, and now he has to follow through, because she is anything if not thorough when she's challenged.

 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about teaching Keith to warp after he’s barely had a lesson,” Lance protests. “Warping is way too advanced of a technique for someone who’s almost a complete beginner!”

 

Allura’s eyes narrow and she purses her lips.

 

_What’s warping?_

 

Lance doesn’t dignify that with a response, verbal or mental.

 

“Warping is a necessity to learn defensive magic techniques,” she says. “If Keith is to defend anyone, himself included, then he must learn to warp.”

 

She’s right about that, as usual, but Lance can’t help but feel like she’s pushing just a bit too much, especially on someone who was only exposed to magic not even a week ago. Lance himself didn’t even learn to warp until a couple months before he started his quintessence lessons.

 

“There’s no way he needs to learn warping first thing,” Lance argues. “Why don’t you teach him camouflages or something less dangerous?”

 

Allura steps forward with a hard frown, prompting Lance to shuffle back a tiny bit. “Lance, I would appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt my lessons. Warping is the single most important defensive skill he could learn, which I am sure he’s capable of given his speed of progress at his last lesson. Camouflages only go so far, even for naturals such as Keith, and they can be just as dangerous as warping.”

 

Lance looks away from her sharp gaze to the floor, trying not to shrink away from the implications behind her words, especially her last ones. He knows what she’s trying to make him remember, of course, and the sting of memory that lashes out at him makes his embarrassment that much more intense. He slinks away towards the wall adjacent to where Shiro and Coran stand, and tries his best not to look so pathetic.

 

Satisfied, Allura turns away from Lance and towards Keith, who’s been watching the exchange silently.

 

“Back to the lesson now. Warping, as Lance pointed out, is an advanced technique, and can be dangerous when done without the proper technique. It is, essentially, teleportation. Short distances are, of course, the ideal when warping, but it is possible for highly skilled magic-users to warp longer distances in the tens of miles.”

 

_What the fuck?_

 

_Dude it’s magic._

 

“Warping is the process of using the mind and magic in tandem to move a magic-user and/or others through space to an entirely different location. I will demonstrate for you now.”

 

Allura steps away from Keith and Lance and stands with her feet touching and her back straight. “I’m sure you have heard of the expression ‘the mind follows the body; the body follows the mind’, yes? There is a similar expression that applies to magic and its users. ‘The mind bends to the whims of its core, but the core is at the mercy of the mind.’”

 

Allura clasps her hands together in front of herself and inhales deeply, slow and steady. “They are very similar, but ultimately different,” she explains on a slow exhale. Her entire body and uniform starts to glow a dusty rose as she closes her eyes, face the picture of serenity.  “It is a common belief that the mind and the core are equal, or even that the core is stronger, due to its magic, but this is not true.”

 

Lance’s arms erupt into goosebumps through his uniform and a shiver runs down his spine. The air surrounding Allura is charged with a sharp undercurrent of magic, thick and powerful and dangerous.

 

“In order to make proper use of the magic you now possess, you must have control over it. _The mind can never be weaker than the core, or destruction is sure to follow_.” Allura’s voice seems to resonate within Lance’s mind, and as soon as she stops speaking, she disappears, leaving only the faintest cloud of pink magic in her wake.

 

~

 

 _What the fuck?_ Keith thinks, whirling around in a circle like an idiot. But Allura is nowhere in the room, and he catches Shiro’s shocked expression as he turns. Lance and Coran, on the other hand, don’t look so impressed, and they’re both facing the door with neutral expressions. Keith turns towards Lance.

 

“Where is she?”

 

Lance’s expression darkens when they make eye contact, but he doesn’t look away. “I don’t know, she warped out,” he says with a hint of bitterness. “I doubt she went very far; she’s going to be teaching you this today, you know.”

 

“Oh, right.”

 

The door opens before Keith can say anything else, and Allura walks in confidently, hands clasped behind her back as she moves to the center of the room. “As you could probably see, warping takes a little bit of time and a great deal of concentration,” she explains. “In order to transport your physical body elsewhere, you must first do a lot of work. Copy my stance.”

 

Allura retakes her pose in the center of the room, clicking her heels together and squaring her shoulders. Keith does the same, though he feels a little silly with all eyes in the room on him as he interlocks his fingers together. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Lance stepping back towards the wall.

 

“The type of warping you will be learning can be broken down into four different steps. Those steps are obtaining a state of stability in your core, spreading your magic throughout whatever you wish to warp, selecting the warp location, and finally, the warping itself.

 

“The first thing you must do in order to perform advanced techniques is to have what is called a steady core. Because your core is in your lungs, this should be a fairly easy state to get into for you. Breathe deeply and evenly, and focus on the quintessence within your core. Feel it as a stable flame, neither weak nor overpowering but always at the same level.”

 

Keith closes his eyes and follows Allura’s directions, watching the fire in his lungs with his mind’s eye. The hot flames lick the insides of his lungs—his core—with an eager intensity, and he watches for inconsistencies.

 

There are a lot, which Keith does his best to quell, but nothing seems to be working. If anything, he starts to feel hotter in his uniform, and the flames jump higher in his lungs, aiming for his throat and begging to be released out into the world.

 

 _How am I supposed to keep it at the same level?_ Keith wonders despairingly. Annoyance is starting to trickle into his head, tensing up the muscles in his shoulder and back, which makes it even harder to steady the magic in his core.

 

“Steady Keith,” Allura says.

 

 _I’m trying!_ Keith wants to shout. Instead, he grinds his back teeth together and tries harder.

 

 _You’re trying too hard ,_ Lance thinks calmly. _You’re a_ natural _, remember? You have to feel it more than think it. Don’t try to control your quintessence, just let it be and it’ll steady on its own. Trust your instincts._

 

_My instincts say to try harder!_

 

_Wrong instincts then. Magic is entirely different from anything you might have felt before you had it. Let your core do its thing and it'll all work out._

 

Keith cracks open an eye and directs it towards Lance. He’s leaning back against the wall with his hands jammed into the pockets of his blue uniform, and he’s looking down at the floor like he’s bored but his eyebrows are pulled close together like magnets.

 

Keith closes his eye and takes Lance’s advice, though he isn't happy about it.

 

As soon as he lets go of his slippery hold on his magic, the flames erupt with life, reaching up and up and up until Keith is sure smoke is pouring out of his nose in a waterfall of heat and raw magic. A bead of sweat tugs a wet line down the side of his face but he ignores it and tries not to grab back control.

 

After what feels like an eternity, the fire calms down on its own and the heat recedes back into his lungs without a complaint.

 

“Very good, Keith,” Allura says from somewhere to his left. “This is a feeling you will familiarize yourself with as you continue to learn magic, and it will enable you to do many things. You may open your eyes, and we will continue on with the lesson.”

 

Keith’s vision is tinted red when he opens his eyes, a bloody wash over his eyes that turns Allura’s hair crimson and Lance’s uniform maroon.

 

“Now, this is only the first step to warping, but it is very essential. With your core steady, I want you to channel your magic to your entire body and uniform.”

 

Keith closes his eyes again and tugs at the magic sitting in his lungs. It easily obeys his mind’s directions, spreading and moving out across his chest and back through his shoulder blades.

 

“Draw it up to the tips of your fingers and toes and everywhere in between. Push it into the fabric of your uniform and—oh, you should take off the cape for this part. That is my mistake, I should have told you to do that before we started.”

 

Just before Keith is about to relinquish his hold on his magic, he hears soft footsteps.

 

“I got it, keep going,” Lance says. Keith can practically feel Lance’s presence at his back, and he desperately tries not to think of anything when he feels him pull off the red cape secured around his shoulders. It’s much more difficult a task than any other magical thing he’s had to do so far.

 

The weight of the cape lifts from Keith’s shoulders after a fragile moment, and then he feels more than hears Lance walk back over to the wall.

 

Keith relaxes, and continues stretching his magic through his body. Like last time, there’s an odd feeling when he pushes it outside his body and into the uniform—made easier by the materials used to make it—and it takes a while before he feels he’s gotten everything. The heat is now an easy warmth throughout his whole body, and even though he’s feeling the beginnings of a headache, it’s comfortable, a stark difference from the previous day. (Also similar to his first lesson is that the feel of the magic is familiar, an old, worn path that Keith is walking down for the first time.)

 

“Now is the hard part,” Allura says. “The type of warp you are about to perform can vary greatly, because you will not be selecting a specific location to warp to. For this test, you will be warping a few feet across the room to Lance. Lance, move closer to the middle of the room, please.”

 

“Ugh, do I have to?”

 

“Yes, Lance, you do. Now Keith, Lance will act as a sort of homing beacon for you. Open your eyes and focus on a spot beside him.”

 

Keith opens his eyes and finds himself looking directly at Lance ten feet away. Lance stares right back at him unblinking, and Keith is suddenly reminded of that magic show what feels like so long ago, when Lance’s face had been covered in blue and his eyes had seemed just as dark as they look right now, tinged purple with the red of his magic.

 

He quickly decides on the spot to Lance’s right, and hones in on it.

 

“Remember Keith, mind over core,” Allura says. “Focus on that spot and focus on where Lance would be if you were standing there. Concentrate on it with every fiber of your being and pull yourself there with your mind.”

 

Keith’s eyes shut on their own and he imagines himself there, imagines the feel of Lance’s presence to his right and imagines the empty space beside Lance occupied by himself.

 

What comes next is a sensation unlike any Keith’s ever felt before.

 

First he feels movement, but he knows he’s not moving any physical muscle of his own. The warmth encompassing his body and uniform turns scalding—but bearable—and there’s a hiss like steam and the taste of copper on his tongue. His body no longer feels like his own, and some pressure in the air squeezes his head into an unforgiving vice.

 

He cries out in pain, or at least, he thinks he does, because right now all Keith can feel is a wildfire in his lungs and the pressure on his skull. Rainbow shapes spiral and dance behind his closed eyelids and he’s sure he’ll be stuck in this strange hell forever.

 

But then something—someone—cuts past everything and shatters the illusion within the blink of an eye. Lance slaps a hand on Keith’s shoulder and he jumps in surprise. There’s an uncertain rolling in Keith’s stomach and he has half a mind to put a hand to his stomach to try and quell the nausea

 

“Nice job,” Lance says with a weak smile. He stands right beside Keith, but he’s facing the other way, and the wall is a lot closer than it was before. The red wash over his vision is gone.

 

Did he just warp?

 

Keith just gives him a blank look, but before he can respond, Shiro and Allura and Coran are suddenly there too, Shiro patting him on the back and Allura smiling proudly with Coran. He barely notices when Lance turns away with a hand lifting towards his own head, too overwhelmed by everyone else to really get his thoughts in order.

 

“That was wonderful,” Allura gushes. “Your magical technique was nearly flawless!”

 

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Shiro asks jokingly.

 

“That was quite impressive,” Coran says, twirling his mustache thoughtfully.

 

Keith can’t help but smile proudly, ignoring the headache forming in the back of his head.

 

He did it.

 

“Well, it took a while, but you were able to warp!” Allura says, after everyone has calmed down. “With a little bit of practice, you’ll be able to warp to anyone you know in just a few seconds. For now though, we will take a short break, so you may rest.” Allura steps away with Coran, and they begin speaking in hushed voices.

 

“So what did it feel like to warp?” Shiro asks.

 

Keith shrugs. “I could feel myself moving, and it felt really hot.”

 

_Understatement of the year._

 

 _What would_ you _know?_

 

Shiro looks a bit skeptical at that, one eyebrow arched disbelievingly. “That’s it? You just disappeared into thin air and then suddenly you were standing right next to Lance.”

 

“Uh, right.” Keith turns towards where Lance stands near the wall, alone. His head is tilted slightly towards the ground and his gaze is unfocused. _I wonder what he’s thinking about._

 

As if on cue, Lance looks up at Keith, eyes already narrowing defensively

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

“I—nothing!”  _Shit._

 

Shiro looks between Keith and Lance with wide eyes. “Are you guys talking to each other with your minds again?”

 

Lance stalks up to Keith and Shiro with a scowl.

 

“ _I_ wasn’t doing anything telepathic. That was all Keith.”

 

“... Right. Well, have you found any potential causes for your mental link?”

 

A flurry of emotions pass through Lance’s eyes too quickly for Keith to read, but he settles on a slight frown as he looks away. “No. The closest thing is that grayscale from the interview, but there’s still a lot that’s different, and I’m just a water-type anyways.”

 

Keith doesn’t miss the way Lance’s voice gets quieter at the end, nor does he miss the way he turns away the slightest bit from him and Shiro. _You saved my life,_ he thinks before he really considers what he’s directing to Lance.

 

Lance’s eyes narrow and he looks up at Keith warily.

 

“So?”

Well, looks like it’s too late to back out now. “So what do you mean ‘just a water-type’?”

 

“Keith, if it weren’t for me, your life wouldn’t need saving!” Lance shifts his weight around uncomfortably.

 

“Still, you gave me magic. Fucking _magic!_ ”

 

“I just remembered I wanted to ask Allura something,” Shiro says awkwardly, shuffling away from Keith and Lance when neither respond. Keith barely registers his absence.

 

“But you didn’t even _need it_ ,” Lance argues. “You could’ve lived whatever life you wanted—you could _survive_ without it!”

 

Keith hesitates, words dying in his throat as he registers Lance’s words. He doesn’t understand what Lance is getting at, or why they’re arguing about this in the first place. He feels his headache worsen but he stubbornly ignores it and focuses on the frustration twisting Lance’s face in front of him.

 

“Of course you don’t get it!” he explodes. “You weren’t born with it, Keith! You could survive without any of it but now you need it or _you’ll die!_ ” He steps forward until they’re toe-to-toe and Keith is forced to tilt his head to make up for the two-inch difference in height.

 

“So? It’s not like I’m going to be giving it all away, right?”

 

“That’s not the point, Keith!”  _You don’t get it._

 

The tone of Lance’s voice in Keith’s head is a clear warning, but he disregards it. “Then what is it?!”

 

Lance’s fists glow icy blue over his uniform and his eyes blaze with a dark fire. In that moment, his presence fills the training room and then some, and Keith very faintly registers the silence a few feet behind him where Allura, Shiro, and Coran stand.

 

“The _point_ is that it was mine!” Lance shouts. “I gave you half of my _best_ _fucking_ _quintessence,_ so now you can do anything while I have to start all over!”

 

Keith’s train of thought stutters to a halt and he takes a step back, but he freezes in place before he can get any farther away. “W—what?”

 

“You heard me, Keith,” Lance sneers. Even with his eyes full of tears he still looks just as enraged. “I told you already, I gave you my magic—my quintessence—so you’d live. And you know what makes it so valuable?”

 

Lance waits nearly a full second before answering his own question.

 

“The thing about quintessence is that it doesn’t come back, not _ever_.”

 

Lance turns away quickly and scrubs viciously at his eyes, back rising and falling unevenly with his breathing. The training room is silent except for the sounds of his ragged breaths, until eventually they too quiet down.

 

“It’s _gone_ ,” he whispers, so quiet and small that Keith can barely hear him at all.

 

Lance’s hands move to hug his midsection tightly, and Keith is bombarded with a sharp, biting wind that makes him squint to see. Lance grunts with exertion and pain as his body starts to glow blue, but it’s not even throughout, missing altogether around the cuffs of his darkening uniform.

 

“Lance,” Allura starts, but it’s too late.

 

He disappears from the training room to who knows where, leaving behind only a few dull blue sparkles that flutter to the tile and disappear from Keith’s sight not a moment later.

 

The ripped cuffs of his uniform lie side-by-side on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, please let me know if you find any places where I missed the underlined thoughts or if you find any other errors


	6. Electric Heartburn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever but here's the next chapter! Not really happy with how this turned out, but it's better than nothing...

Keith leans heavily against his arm, propped up against the window in Shiro’s car. He stares out at the passing buildings with eyes glazed over in thought and tries not to think about the panic and anger in Lance’s voice just before he warped.

 

Immediately after he disappeared, Allura had rushed forward to retrieve the ripped pieces of the uniform left behind, and set them inside a compartment in the wall that slid away like it was always there. Keith hadn’t had a good view of the inside, but he caught glimpses of glass and more blue before Allura shut the compartment.

 

Allura, although clearly shaken, pulled her lips into a tight smile and declared that Keith had practiced enough for the day and that he should go home and rest.

 

It had all happened too fast, scrambling his thoughts so badly that all he could feel was confusion and frustration when he tried to piece things together.

 

Shiro pulls up to the apartment building and Keith gets out without a word. Just before he shuts the door Shiro leans over the seat.

 

“Don’t stay up all night,” is all he says.

 

Keith nods once, and shuts the door.

 

When he gets to his laptop, he finds three new emails in his inbox, all detailed commissions from various people.

 

He makes himself some coffee, powers on his drawing tablet, and gets to work.

 

~

 

It’s the draw of the open ocean that guides Lance to the beach, one foot sinking into water while the other drops into sun-baked sand as he leaves the warp. The uniform he was wearing is tattered now, missing the cuffs and fraying at the hems from the shaky warp. Still, it’s better than losing the whole uniform; or worse, part of himself.

 

He struggles to regain his breath as he keels over, arms wrapped around his stomach to try to stem the incoming warp nausea.

 

The foot in the hot sand starts to hurt.

 

The heat reminds him of Keith, an open flame burning too brightly too look directly at.

 

Lance moves that foot into the water, and shivers at the sudden iciness.

 

_ He will burn you _ . The thought slips into Lance’s head so discreetly he almost thinks it’s his own.

 

But it’s not.

 

_ Blue! _

 

Lance moves further out into the water until he’s up to his knees. His chest fills with air and elation and he feels he could cry from the happiness that fills his heart and lungs to the brim.

 

_ I’m still here, _ she whispers faintly.

 

Lance wades out further until he can barely keep his head above the gentle waves.  _ I thought you were gone. _

 

_ No, I never left; I can never leave you. _

 

_ Well that’s comforting. _

 

_ I will always be with you. _

 

Lance stares out across the water for a long moment. Then, without having to concentrate at all, he pulls a thin sheet of magic up over his head like a mask, and walks down into the water. The waves above his head push and pull at his hair until he’s a few feet beneath the water.

 

His lungs burn from lack of oxygen, but he ignores the feeling and keeps walking. The currents pull him deeper and deeper, until it becomes hard to see anything clearly through the blue veil protecting his eyes from the saltwater. As he starts to leave the vicinity of the beach, it rapidly becomes clear that it’s not him doing this; it’s his magic.

 

Lance doesn’t resist though, even as his chest tightens and he starts to see multi-colored spots in front of the deep blue. The cold of the water seeps down into his bones but he keeps going, keeps letting his core guide him deeper and deeper into the sea.

 

It can’t have been more than a few minutes when his vision darkens completely and he drops into unconsciousness. The magic shielding his head like a helmet dissolves away moments later.

  
  


Lance stands in front of a pair of midnight blue eyes, underwater. He recognizes the strange texture of the walls around him, telling him that he’s in that cavern again. He wonders if this is the shadow he saw last time.

 

“Who are you?” he tries to ask, but all that comes out of his mouth is a stream of bubbles.

 

_ You still have your magic. _

 

“Blue!” Lance starts forward, but something holds him back, keeping him at a distance from Blue. His chest tightens and a thread of anxiety takes root in his heart. “What do you mean? I have half a core.”

 

Blue blinks once. Slowly, the faint blue outline of a lioness starts to take shape around her eyes, glowing just a touch.

 

_ You still have your magic, _ she repeats.

 

“What do you mean? I gave half of it to Keith!” Lance starts to struggle against whatever’s holding him back, but he can’t move an inch. His chest starts to hurt.

 

_ You still have your magic. _

 

Suddenly angry, Lance pushes harder to move. “No I don’t!” he screams. “It’s gone!”

 

Blue’s outline blurs, then vanishes entirely. Her eyes wink out of existence a moment later.

 

“Blue? Blue! Where are you?!” Lance’s head whips around as he searches for those dark eyes, but there’s nothing. The pain in his chest starts to worsen, spreading up to squeeze his head like a vice. He tries to cry out in pain, but nothing leaves his mouth, not even bubbles.

  
  


Lance gasps in a lungful of saltwater as he wakes with a start.

 

He’s still underwater.

 

He thrashes around in the water, desperate for air, but he can’t tell which way is up. His head is in so much pain he’s sure it’ll explode, and he can feel warm liquid escaping his nose.

 

_ I don’t want to die. _

 

It’s that thought that gives him the strength and clarity of mind to reach for his chest and try to pull any lasting dregs of magic from his core. His numb hands claw at the thick material of the uniform there, dragging him down like useless deadweight, but he manages to pull a tiny thread of glowing blue and stretch it over his eyes like a mask. When he opens them, he sees nothing but pitch black. He doesn’t even know where his hands are, so numb and distant that they could be anywhere.

 

He has to get out somehow, leave this wretched ocean and find somewhere warm and dry and safe.

 

_ Warp. _

 

Lance curls up into a tight ball, or at least he thinks he does; he’s too cold to tell.

 

_ I can’t. _

 

_ You have to! Warp! _

 

Lance’s thoughts slow to a stilted walk.  _ Keith?  _ He thinks groggily. He hadn’t even noticed that it wasn’t Blue speaking to him.  _ Huh, that’s weird. They sound so different. _

 

_ What the hell are you talking about? Get out of there already! _

 

_ Fuck you Keith, you stole all my magic. _ Wait, that’s not right. Lance gave his magic to Keith, willingly.  _ Oh, it  _ was _ me. _

 

_ Lance, hurry! _

 

It’s difficult to focus on anything past the burn in Lance’s chest from lack of oxygen and overexertion, but he tries. There has to be  _ some _ magic left in him, even just enough to get out of here, right? Anything would be better than this cold, watery prison.

 

The magic that he pulls up out of the depths of his core feels stronger, but he’s too close to dying to think about it too hard.

 

He pushes the magic through his body and as much of the soggy uniform as he can, and pictures the beach.

  
  


It’s dark when Lance drops from the warp onto his back in the sand, coughing and retching and expelling so much water he doesn’t know how he’s managed to stay alive for so long. There’s barely a sliver of silver moonlight to see by, but it brings tears to his eyes from its brightness and he has to close his eyes for a while longer before he can see clearly.

 

He runs a hand through his drying hair and moves to sit up despite his aching muscles and the ice deep in his bones.

 

_ Are you okay? _

 

Lance scowls down at his shaking hands.  _ Yeah… thanks. _

 

_ Don’t do that again asshole, I could feel it. _

 

_ Oh, right. _

 

_ Yeah. _

 

Lance rubs his hands together to try to get some warmth back, but it’s still a long time before he’s able to feel his appendages.

  
  


He returns to the castle soon after, with barely enough time to get ready for the magic show.. He takes a blissfully scalding shower and changes into his dress shirt and pants instead of using his magic, then slips out the castle doors without ever seeing anyone else.

 

Hunk and Pidge are waiting for him on the dock, talking to each other in hushed voices as people slowly begin to congregate.

 

Lance does his best to brush aside their worried questions, and passes through the show with only a few major errors. Hunk and Pidge manage to cover them up well, but Lance is left embarrassed in the background as they draw the audience’s attention away from his mess of cards and burning cheeks.

 

~

 

_ Good. _

 

Keith stares at the hand holding his tablet pen in wonder, marveling at the magma-colored liquid swirling around in the veins just below the surface of his skin. He can tell it’s magic without even having to think about it, can feel the heat and power he now possesses as his own and no one else’s.

 

_ Why am I just now feeling this? _ He asks the voice sitting in his lungs.

 

No response.

 

There’s a knock at the door.

 

“Let’s go, Keith,” Shiro yells through the door. “We have to leave now or we’re gonna be late.”

 

Keith watches the faint red slowly fade from the back of his hand before he pulls on his jacket. He’ll figure it out later.

 

~

 

Quiet music filters in from the interior of the restaurant when Lance and Pidge step inside. Lance lifts a hand to shift the hair around his left ear, discreetly pressing the tiny button on the flesh-toned earpiece to turn it on. After the softest burst of static, a low hum settles into his ear, barely noticeable.

 

“We have a reservation,” Lance says to the host at the front, who looks over them both with a clinical gaze.

 

“Name?”

 

“Gunderson,” Pidge says quickly, reaching up to adjust her brother’s glasses on her nose. She moves to wrap an arm around Lance’s, squeezing nervously as the host gives them another long look.

 

_ Gross _ .

 

“Right this way,” he says after a tense moment, turning sharply on his heel and directing them into the restaurant. The dark interior of the restaurant and red lighting give the white-cloth tables a romantic air, helped along by the candles flickering in the center of each one. The whole look clashes awfully with Pidge’s pale green dress and clutch, and Lance makes a note in his head to do more research on the atmosphere and feel the next time they go on a mission.

 

Both Lance and Pidge’s outfits don’t fit quite perfectly into the expensive air of the restaurant, but it’ll have to do. It’s mostly empty, with the only other people far back in their own private corners. Nobody even looks over.

 

“Ew, cooties,” Lance says under his breath as they walk move towards a long, open window and one of the tables right in front of it.

 

Pidge just pinches his arm without a word, prompting a tiny yelp which he barely disguises as a cough.

 

“Here you are,” the host says, gesturing stiffly to one of the tables with just two chairs. Two menus sit in front of the chairs. “A server will be out in just a moment.”

 

Lance waits until the host is out of hearing range before turning to Pidge. “Where will Zarkon be sitting?” he asks hurriedly.

 

Pidge nods to the table just behind Lance. “They’ll be at that table, but there’s no way to tell how they’ll be sitting,” she says.

 

Lance frowns but moves to sit at the chair further away from the empty table, adjusting his seat so that he can see the table easily. Pidge takes the seat closest to the table, glancing back at it nervously before turning to face Lance.

 

“This is such a bad plan,” she mutters lowly. “We should’ve just let Allura take care of it or something, she’s older and more experienced.”

 

Lance picks up a menu and opens it, pretending to scan through as he replies. “It’s a whole lot better than her plan, and we can’t just let her try to take this guy on herself. Also, she’s barely a year older than me Pidge, it’s not that big a difference.”

 

There’s the crackle of static in Lance’s left ear, and then, “Pidge, pick up a menu or something, you look suspicious just sitting there looking at it!”

 

“Yeah, listen to Hunk,” Lance says, leaning back in his chair to seem as relaxed as possible despite his rapid heartbeat.

 

Pidge levels an irritated look at Lance, but picks up a menu and starts flipping through. “This should be you, Hunk, I’m not cut out for a fake date with this idiot.”

 

“Hey, I like this about as much as you do. You’re like a little sister, Pidge!”

 

“Sorry, Pidge, but you’re more innocent-looking,” Hunk says. “It’ll lower suspicions if it’s you with Lance, you just have that look.”

 

“I disagree,” Lance butts in, “you’re like a cinnamon roll, dude, totally innocent. Pidge is like an evil gremlin in comparison.”

 

Pidge kicks Lance’s shin under the table.. “Shut it, they’re coming in now,” she hisses under her breath.

 

Lance ducks his head and pretends to focus on whatever page of the menu he’s on, peeking up through his eyelashes to watch as Shiro and Keith walk over and sit down facing him. Neither seem to even notice him and Pidge sitting there, but if Lance looks up, they’ll easily be able to recognize him.

 

“Pi— _ Katie _ , block me,” Lance whispers intently. He drops the menu onto the table as Pidge shifts and, after a quick glance around to make sure nobody’s watching, drops his head into his hands.

 

Lance pulls magic up to his face in a rush of intense concentration, wincing slightly at the strain on his heart. He shapes the magic in his hands like putty, changing the shape of his jaw and eye color with a few quick hand shapes and focused thought, though he feels himself start to sweat even from the minimal camouflage.

 

When he lifts his head, Pidge makes one pass over his face and nods subtly.

 

“Nice projection,” Hunk says through the earpiece. “Should’ve done Pidge before you guys went in too.”

 

Pidge adjusts her own earpiece, masked by the shifting of the floral headband covering her ears, and frowns. “Shit, I totally forgot.”

 

“Language.”

 

Pidge focuses on a spot somewhere behind Lance and makes a show of rolling her eyes.

 

“Alright, focus team,” Lance says before Hunk has a chance to reply. “You planted a mic at their table right? I can’t make out what they’re saying.”

 

Pidge nods and moves her hands towards her lap, where she fiddles with the fabric of her dress for a few moments before stopping and picking up her menu. “Hunk, press the button on your comm twice to hear them,” she says quietly. “You won’t be able to hear us until you press twice again, got it?”

 

“Oh my gosh this is really happening,” Hunk says in a hushed voice. “What if they recognize you guys? What if  _ Allura _ recognizes you? What if she—”

 

“Relax, buddy. Just make sure you switch back as soon as Allura does her thing, we need you making sure everything goes smoothly and that nobody gets hurt. We all know what to do if something happens, right? So we’ll be fine, we can do this.”

 

There’s a sharp exhale over the comms, and Lance can just imagine Hunk psyching himself up in the parking lot. “Right. Yeah, you guys can count on me. I’ll be back soon.”

 

“Copy that. Hey P—Katie, you know what a ‘crostini’ is?”

 

Pidge rolls her eyes lightly but smiles anyway. “Just get something you can actually pronounce, okay?”

 

“But that’s no fun!”

 

“Well go ahead then. Just remember that you’re paying for all the food we order.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Hey, not so loud,” Pidge hisses. “And yeah, this is a date, so you’re paying.”

 

“But it’s a fake date,” Lance whispers back fiercely. “Emphasis on the  _ fake _ !” He straightens and composes himself just before catching the eye of a server walking towards their table, plastering a smile on his face before turning back down to search his menu for something cheap.

 

“What would you two like to start with?” the server asks with a rigid smile.

 

Pidge clears her throat softly as she sets down her menu, turning to the server with a smile much more innocent than Lance ever thinks he’d be able to manage. “I’ll just have the spinach-artichoke dip and a water to start,” she says.

 

“And for you, sir?”

 

Lance flounders and frantically flips through his menu, searching for anything that looks familiar as the server waits patiently.

 

“Uh, he’ll have the same,” Pidge says after an awkward amount of time.

 

“Yes, right.”  _ Aw man, I hate spinach. _

 

The server inclines his head slightly. “Right away.” He turns away and walks back towards the kitchen, presumably, and Lance relaxes with a sigh.

 

“What’s with you today?” Pidge asks. “Get your head in the game.”

 

Lance stares down at the pristine tablecloth and neglects to respond, even at the blatant reference. He can already feel his camouflage wavering, projection weakening as his focus erodes away from the stress of the mission.

 

_ Keep it together. You got this. Easy peasy. _

 

_ Lance? _

 

Oh shit. Lance bites his lip and wills himself to stop thinking so clearly.

 

_ Lance? Are you there? _

 

_ What do you want, Keith? _ Lance thinks before he can stop himself.

 

_ Oh. Nothing, never mind. _

 

“Holy crow,” Lance mutters. He very carefully peeks up under his eyelashes to make sure Keith isn’t looking his way—he’s facing the window, thank god—before lifting his head.

 

“Were you just talking to him?” Pidge asks quietly. She opens her purse and takes out a stick of makeup and a pocket mirror, both of which she holds up close to her face and angles so she can see behind herself. The lipstick hovers over her mouth as she squints at the tiny mirror for a long time.

 

Lance just nods, and after a moment, Pidge snaps the mirror shut and puts it and the makeup back into her purse. Lance is sure she has some fancy homemade tech imbedded into the inconspicuous clutch, but he has no idea what. Probably should have asked about it beforehand.

 

Okay, so this plan might not have been the most thought-out. Still, Lance will do anything to make sure things go as planned, regardless of the poor state of his core. Pidge starts talking about something mindless and unrelated to keep up the pretense of the ‘date,’ while Lance nods along without really listening.

 

“Oh my god, he’s coming,” Hunk yells suddenly. Lance winces at the volume. “Zarkon’s coming in now, and he’s not alone, guys. Why isn’t he alone? Who  _ is _ that?”

 

Lance’s gaze slides over to the front doors where, sure enough, Zarkon stands, tall and imposing in a dark suit that does nothing to hide his obvious strength. He looks almost exactly the same as the video. Just beside him is a woman almost two heads shorter, with long white hair shielding her face from Lance’s view. Her long, flowing purple dress looks more like a robe than anything else, but it matches well with Zarkon’s suit and the interior of the restaurant.

 

The host doesn’t look at them for more than a moment before turning to guides them over to the table just behind Pidge.

 

Just before the woman sits down, she glances over and makes eye contact with Lance for a brief moment. In that tiny second, an electric, wild energy fills Lance’s entire body, making his hair stand on end and as if every nerve ending is firing all at once. Before he can even begin to compose his features, she turns away and sits lightly beside Zarkon, back ramrod straight and poised. The strange sensation fades.

 

“Guys? Are we compromised?” Hunk’s voice is pitched with anxiety, and Lance can easily imagine his best friend chewing up his fingers nervously from inside the car.

 

Lance himself feels the intense urge to give in, the rapid beat of his heart eating up the remnants of his projection like a starving animal. But no, they can’t just give up. Allura will follow through with her plan regardless of this change, Lance knows. He pushes more magic up to his face to maintain the projection.

 

“No,” he says firmly. “We have to be here to help Allura no matter what. Katie, you ready?”

 

Pidge nods as she reaches forward to grab her clutch. Her knuckles turn white.

 

They have to follow through with this.

 

“Good. We’re on in T-minus ten. Hunk, I’m going to listen in on the meeting now, so you’ll just be hearing Katie, alright?”

 

“Okay, stay safe Lance.”

 

“No problem, buddy. Over.” Lance presses the side of his earpiece twice, and he’s in.

  
  


“—assist in this meeting. I’m sure you understand this reasoning. Haggar’s skills are unparalleled.”

 

Just hearing Zarkon’s voice makes the hair on the back of Lance’s neck stand up in alarm. His tone is powerful and confident, without any sign of hesitation. Lance nods and smiles weakly as the server sets down a small plate in front of him and Pidge, but he hears nothing of what he’s saying.

 

“Of course, I’d expect nothing less,” Shiro says smoothly, “though I doubt her skills are going to be needed for this meeting.”

 

“I think you’ll be surprised about how much she knows,” Zarkon replies. “Many of my associates have often described her abilities as pure witchcraft.” He chuckles mirthlessly.

 

Any warmth that was in the air is immediately sucked out by Zarkon’s words, and Lance feels ice creep over his heart and lungs at the double meaning. His face pales, and his stomach twists into tight knots.

 

_ What? _

 

“Lance, what happened?” Pidge asks, leaning over the table as Lance struggles to contain the surge of nausea barreling through his stomach.

 

“What I do isn’t impressive,” a new voice says, slow and rough but distinctly feminine. Lance looks up in time to see the woman, Haggar, turn her head towards Zarkon. Her left eye slides over to bore into Lance’s as she continues. “It’s merely a science.”

 

Her eye glows a sickly yellow on the last word and narrows with something like anger.

 

The projection drops from Lance’s face like a sheet of water, leaving nothing to soften the horrified twist of his features at the realization.

 

“Well, I hope to get a chance to see the full extent of your abilities,” Shiro says hesitantly.

 

“Perhaps you will,” Haggar says, “some day.”

 

“Yes, someday.”

 

_ NO! _

  
  


“Lance, are you okay?” Pidge asks worriedly. “I think we should cancel the mission. Hunk, something’s wrong with Lance.”

 

She’s right. If even one of them is compromised, the whole mission will fall apart. Lance tries to open his mouth to warn Pidge and Hunk, but every muscle is paralyzed. Why can’t he move? His heart burns intensely, and he can feel an unfamiliar magic making its way to his core, untempered by human touch.

 

Pidge is giving him a weird look now, chewing on the inside of her cheek while her hands fiddle with the latch on her purse.

 

What a stupid counter-plan; Lance should have just stayed out of it.

 

They should never have tried to help with this mission. Allura’s going to kill them… if they even survive this.

 

_ Wait, Allura! _ He has to warn her about Haggar!  _ Shit! _

 

_ Lance? Are you okay? _

 

_ Keith! You have to get out of here now! _

 

_ What?! What are you talking about? _

 

_ Get out! Tell Allura that the woman with Zarkon has magic! Haggar’s a magic-user! _

 

_ What the fuck? You’re here? _

  
  


“—so the bad terms we left on should be taken into account,” Haggar’s saying. “Along with your... associate.”

 

“Oh, Keith? He’s always been with me.”

 

Lance watches as Zarkon slowly rises from his seat and turns, ice flooding his veins.

 

“No,” Zarkon says, “ your  _ other  _ associate.”

 

~

 

Keith struggles to swallow the rising lump in his throat as Zarkon moves, revealing a wide-eyed Lance sitting at the table directly behind him. In front of him is—is that Pidge?!

 

It is.

 

She turns a moment after the realization and tilts her head up at a painful-looking angle to glare at Zarkon.

 

“I know who you are,” she says even as her voice cracks.

 

“Then you know how foolish a plan you made, child.”

 

“Pidge, get back!” Shiro yells, grabbing onto Keith’s arm and pulling them up and away from the table.

 

She seems to realize her mistake, eyes widening as Zarkon reaches forward. Before he reaches her, Lance darts forward and tackles her out of the way. They disappear onto the floor and Zarkon pauses to look elsewhere.

 

~

 

Allura holds back an irritated groan as she stares down the host of the restaurant, who only returns a mildly indifferent look. She shifts in the long white dress concealing her uniform and tries to give the host an intimidating glare.

 

“I’m late for a  _ very _ important meeting,” she stresses, lifting a hand to point into the restaurant. “I’m on the reservation!”

 

The host doesn’t even spare a glance down at the paper Allura knows is behind his podium, only frowns with plastic sympathy and shakes his head mechanically.

 

“I’m very sorry, but all four people listed under the name you specified have already shown up. If you’d like, you can make a separate reservation now. Our next available spot for five is next week, from—”

 

“There must be a mistake,” Allura insists. “ _ I’m _ the fourth person!” She can’t be delayed for much longer; even waiting while Shiro and Keith talked with Zarkon was intensely nerve-wracking. She’s this close to the climax of the plan and she’s being held back by the host. Just her luck!

 

“I’m sorry ma’am, but there’s nothing more I can do,” the host says.

 

Allura sighs deeply and squeezes her eyes shut. Five minutes into stepping into this damned restaurant and she’s already being pushed to her limit.

 

When she opens her eyes, they’re harder than steel.

 

“No,” she says, “ _ I’m _ sorry.”

 

Allura pushes past the host before he can react to the statement, and walks right into the heart of the restaurant. Her eyes scan over the small amount of occupied tables until they fall upon Shiro and Keith’s. Just like the host had said, there’s a fourth person sitting beside Zarkon, an older woman who’s already staring directly at her.

 

Allura ignores the rise of goosebumps along her bare arms and holds her gaze for a few stretching moments before the woman turns toward Zarkon and says something. There’s the prickle of  _ something _ tingling in the back of Allura’s mind, just beyond the reaches of her consciousness, that itches and grates against her head.

 

Something isn’t right.

 

Halfway to the table, Zarkon stands from his seat and half-turns to the side, showing no indication that he’s seen Allura. When she follows his cold gaze, the itch in her mind turns stinging and painful. Sitting at the table just behind Zarkon, is a very pale-faced Lance. Across from him is Pidge, sitting upright and completely still.

 

Zarkon turns away from them after a brief moment and turns to look directly at Allura.

 

“So Alfor’s daughter lives,” he says slowly. “I was wondering when you’d show your face.”

 

Allura glares at Zarkon as she pulls magic from her core into one hand and quintessence into the other. With the flick of her wrist, she shapes the magic into a handle and the quintessence soon follows, the thick rope of glowing pink attaching itself to the handle until she’s left with a bright whip.

 

“Your reign is over, Zarkon,” she announces. Turning to Keith and Shiro, she continues, “get to safety.”

 

“Shall I dispose of her, sire?” the woman asks. One hand is already lifting in Allura’s direction.

 

“It’s a waste of energy,” Zarkon says. “Let the sentries take care of Alfor’s disgrace.”

 

Allura throws forward her whip again, sharpening it into a blade with the anger and adrenaline rushing through her mind. Even at such a close distance, the woman dodges the crackling weapon with astounding ease; Zarkon is already turning away dismissively.

 

Before she can haul back her arm for another crack, cool hands wrap around her upper arms and sharply pull away.

 

It’s the host of the restaurant, along with several servers. They pull Allura away from the table despite her struggles, and she watches as the woman places a hand on Zarkon’s shoulder as they both start to glow a cold yellow. A moment later, there’s the distinct boom of distant thunder, and they disappear.

 

All the energy leaves Allura in a rush. Her whip dissolves into the air, but she barely notices the whirlwind of magic reintegrating into her mind.

 

_ That woman’s a magic-user. _

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Hunk rush past, barreling over servers and patrons alike as he goes straight for Lance and Pidge.

 

The servers holding Allura back make no noise, not even their breath can be heard. She pulls and pulls, but the dozen hands pulling at her are too great. With a grunt of frustration, she lets go of the smallest fraction of control and pushes back with all her strength.

 

The servers fly backwards and the smell of burning plastic scorches the insides of Allura’s nostrils. Behind her, the servers are sprawled over the tables and lying still. The server closest to her lies on her side on the ground, steam pouring from her ears and sparks running across her limbs.

 

~   
  


Lance leans heavily on Hunk as they turn in circles with Pidge squished between them. Almost all of the other patrons at the restaurant surround them, all with the same blank expressions on their faces.

 

“I can help,” Pidge says, struggling to move away from Lance and Hunk. Her glasses, knocked askew, threaten to fall off her nose, but she seems oblivious. “I’m not defenseless!”

 

“We have magic,” Hunk counters. His face is set with a level of determination that Lance has never seen before, completely different from ten minutes ago.

 

“Lance! Hunk! Pidge! Over here!”

 

Before Lance has a chance to react, Hunk is already in motion, pulling him and Pidge in the direction of the source of the voice almost before it’s over. With an earth-rumbling war cry, Hunk charges into the crowd, pushing smartly-dressed patrons away before they’re able to react. A few are quick enough to reach out though, and Lance and Pidge flinch away from their splayed fingers as they struggle to stay close to Hunk.

 

“Allura!” Hunk yells when they get close to the door. “We have to go.”

 

Allura stands in the doorway with Keith and Shiro just behind her, and none of them look to be in great condition. While Allura sports a set of scratched up  and bloodied arms, Keith tends to Shiro, whose arm glows brightly even under the glare of the sun outside. Allura beckons them with one hand while the other moves to pull a long rope of magic from her core, which twists and shapes itself into a familiar pink whip.

 

When Hunk, Lance, and Pidge reach her, she pushes them outside and lets loose with the whip, lashing out at any of the servers or patrons that get too close in their pursuit.

 

“We have to get out of here!” Pidge exclaims wildly. “Hunk, where’s the car?”

 

“Across the street, let’s go. Allura, Keith, Shiro! We have to go.”

 

Allura mutters something under her breath and her whip disappears. She throws a few punches at the closest servers before darting out the doors and slamming them shut behind her. Her hands glow pink for a moment as she struggles to keep the doors closed, but when the glow fades, she relaxes.

 

“Keith, you and Shiro go back to the castle with Coran,” she says as she turns away. “I will go with the others.” Her eyes narrow as she turns towards Lance, who shrinks away at her tone of voice.

 

_ Shit. _

  
  


Lance tries his very best not to squirm too much under Allura’s stern gaze on the long drive back to the castle, but his right leg still bounces up and down as he stares out the window. She hasn’t said anything yet, but that just means that he’s in even more trouble. In front of him, Hunk sits behind the wheel with Pidge in the passenger’s seat, both silent.

 

Waiting.

 

“Lance.”

 

Lance’s heartbeat speeds up. Along with that is what almost feels like a jolt of magic, tingling at his fingertips. “Yes, Allura?”

 

“Whose plan was this?”

 

Lance tries to play the innocent card. “Whose plan was what?”

 

It doesn’t work.

 

Allura frowns deeply and stares at Lance for an uncomfortable amount of time before blinking. “Whose plan was it to go to that restaurant and do whatever it is you all were trying to do?”

 

Lance’s head drops. “Mine.”

 

“I figured as much. Lance, what were you thinking?” Allura sounds so disappointed and tired; Lance can’t look her in the eyes. “Do you know how much danger you were in? You’re still injured, and you pulled in Hunk and Pidge into a situation where they could’ve been killed!”

 

“Allura, he didn’t—”

 

“Yes, I know you’re smart, and you have your tech, but it wouldn’t be enough, Pidge. Lance, the situation was being handled, your intervention jeopardized that and the lives of every one of us.”

  
“But it wasn’t!” Lance protests indignantly. “You were putting Keith and Shiro two feet away from Zarkon!”

 

“Keith would have warped himself and Shiro out of harm’s way should something go wrong.”

 

Something snaps in Lance’s head at the mention of Keith.

 

“Keith?  _ Keith _ ?! He’s had magic for less than  _ two weeks _ , Allura! There’s no way he’d be able to warp quick enough just by himself, much less with Shiro! Your plan wasn’t any better than ours.”

 

“Lance is right,” Hunk chimes in cautiously. “We couldn’t just stand by while you try to  _ arrest _ Zarkon, and you wouldn’t let us help so we had to do something ourselves.”

 

“Yeah,” Pidge adds, “you need more people to take out Zarkon.”

 

Allura sighs, exasperated, and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I cannot endanger—”

 

“We can handle ourselves,” Hunk interrupts. Allura’s eyes widen in surprise at the uncharacteristic intrusion, but Hunk continues before she can say anything. “Lance and I have magic, and Pidge is a genius with every technology in existence. We can help, Allura, we know the risks involved.”

 

There’s a long bout of silence in the car.

 

Then,  “I will think on this more once we arrive at the castle.”

 

Lance can’t help the grin stretching across his face. Allura always says that when she’s going to agree to something!

 

His mind drifts to the restaurant and the mindless robots reaching for him, and the smile drops from his face. He turns his focus inward and feels out the electric burn of unfamiliar magic in his system.

 

_ New _ magic.

 

He wonders why it makes his stomach turn.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!  
> Comments and criticisms are always welcome, and if you find any kinds of errors, let me know!
> 
> I'm slowly getting back on the writing grind so hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than this one, sorry this took so long.


	7. Plus One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter to establish some things before a (hopefully) long training scene and other stuff.

Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Keith, and Shiro stand in the training room, waiting.

 

In front of them, Allura and Coran are whispering to each other quickly, and it sounds like they’re arguing. Occasionally, Allura will gesture to them or Coran will glance over with a vaguely suspicious expression, but they don’t address anyone else directly.

 

Lance toes at the ground with his shoe and groans in boredom. Beside him, Pidge talks with Hunk in excited tones about something scientific or in that realm; Lance couldn’t follow it if his life depended on it. Keith and Shiro also seem to be talking, but it’s hard to hear what they’re talking about over Hunk and Pidge.

 

_ Why are we even here? _ he wonders irritably.

 

At the front of the training room, Allura and Coran’s argument seems to have been resolved, with Allura smiling in satisfaction and Coran throwing more suspicious looks at Lance and the others.

 

Lance watches as Allura walks over to the wall next to the door and presses her hand against it. Her hand starts to glow bright pink, blinking in and out a few times before fading as a long section of the wall slides away. Behind the wall sits five objects that look like the handles of something, with strange, translucent crossguards.

 

Allura beckons everyone closer.

 

“Coran and I have discussed our current situation,” she begins, “and we have decided that we’ll have the most success when we’re all cooperating and operating as a team. A traditional Altean battle unit is composed of eight members, five field operatives and three headquarter agents, but we will make do with seven members.” Allura taps on the wall and the bottom of the compartment slides out. “All field operatives use bayards,” she continues. “The bayard is typically built with a preset tool or weapon, but the top squadron’s bayards are infused with pure quintessence, and will take a certain form depending on its user.”

 

Allura goes through a rapid series of motions with her right hand, ending in a flash of color and the materialization of a pink bayard seemingly out of nowhere.

 

“Holy crow,” Lance marvels.

 

Allura pulls a thick rope of magic from her chest and pulls the end to the edge of the bayard. Like a magnet, the end of the magic latches onto the bayard, and when Allura lets go of the magic in her other hand, they’re left staring at a glowing whip.

 

“Oh my god, that’s amazing,” Pidge gushes, stars practically twinkling in her eyes. Lance can practically hear her babbling in her head about the physics of such a weapon.

 

“Everyone will carry one on their person at all times, from here on out,” Coran says. “With Zarkon out and about, we have to be as safe as possible outside the castle.”   
  


Lance is the first to step up to the bayards, picking up the one closest to him and testing its weight in his hands.

 

It's light, almost weightless, falling slowly back into his hands when he tosses it up into the air like a feather. Lance throws some punches at an imaginary foe before turning to Allura.

 

“How do you turn these on?”

 

Allura frowns at Lance.

 

“Don’t you feel it, Lance?”

 

Lance turns. Directly beside him, Pidge turns her bayard over in wonder. Past her, Hunk holds a warm, sunny yellow bayard, shaped into something distantly resembling a machine gun, mostly yellow with white accents and a touch of glowing warm blue here and there.

 

Even Keith has managed to do whatever he had to do to activate his bayard, and he holds a gleaming, double-edged sword in his hands with wide eyes.

 

Shiro has yet to pick up a bayard, simply watching the others serenely.

 

Lance turns back to the colorless bayard in his hand and stares hard at it. What’s he supposed to be feeling?

 

Is he supposed to put his magic into it? Or is he supposed to physically feel something?

 

Lance pulls the tiniest drop of magic from his core, ignoring the electric yellow sitting in a thick layer on top of his blue magic. He slides it down his arm and pushes it into the empty bayard. The drop of magic blooms from the handle and colors nearly the entire bayard in a wash of brilliant azure. Lance wonders what he’ll have to work with.

 

As if prompted by his thought, the bayard begins to glow brightly until he has to look away. When the blinding light fades, he’s left with a gun in his hands, blue sitting underneath accents of glowing blue and white. The hand holding the bayard turns cool, and the pale grip sticks to his hand like the gun is an extension of his arm.

 

“Um, Allura? How am I supposed to use this?” Pidge steps towards Allura with one eyebrow raised and a small frown. “I don’t have any magic.”

 

Allura’s proud expression falls at once.

 

“I’m not quite sure.” Allura looks away as she begins to talk to herself under her breath. “The archives said there have been non-users that were able to use bayards, but that was years ago,” she mumbles. “Perhaps there was a separation between magic-users and non-users—”

 

““I can give her some of my magic,”” Lance and Hunk say at the same time. They both turn and look at each other for a long moment. Hunk wears a stern, protective expression, eyes worried and determined at the same time.

 

“I’m fine,” Lance reassures, even as that cold yellow sloshes around thickly in his core. He turns back to Allura. “Would that work?”

 

“Do you even have enough magic for that?”

 

Lance whirls around to glare at Keith, who looks a bit surprised at his reaction.

 

“I will too,” Hunk says before things can begin to escalate.

 

Allura looks hesitant to speak, but she clears her throat anyways. “I… suppose you may both contribute a portion of your magic.”

 

“Wait, I don’t think I need a bayard,” Pidge speaks up. “And isn’t that how Lance gave away half his magic to Keith? I don’t think that’s necessary for me, I have my tech.”

 

“No.” Allura’s lips are pursed tightly. “We cannot risk getting caught off-guard when we are outside the castle. If anything were to happen to any one of you, I’d never be able to forgive myself. We must be sure to take every precaution we can. I will have to do more research, but I’m sure there’s a way for you to have a bayard of your own. Coran, what do you think?”

 

“I can’t recall off the top of my head, but all the non-user paladins were already quite skilled in their respective fields.” Coran twirls his mustache thoughtfully. “It’s certainly possible though.”

 

“As soon as we find out, we will get you a functional bayard,” Allura says. She watches Pidge hesitate with an expectant look.

 

Pidge turns her gaze onto the floor, eyes flitting back and forth as if making invisible calculations, but she nods after a moment.

 

“Okay.”

 

Allura brightens marginally. “You won’t regret it!”

 

She turns towards Shiro, down at the end of the line. “Shiro? You haven’t picked up a bayard.”

 

Shiro starts a bit at having everyone’s attention on him suddenly, but regains his composure moments later. “Of course.”

 

Halfway through reaching for the bayard sitting in front of him, he flinches away. His prosthetic starts to glow sickly purple and his shoulders curl in on himself.

 

“Shiro!” Keith starts forward, but Hunk catches him by the shoulder and keeps him back.

 

Shiro grips his wrist tightly. Sweat drips down his forehead and Lance can hear his teeth grinding from all the way over where he is. The layer of bitter yellow in his core ripples with what feels like interest, and he has to hold a wave of nausea at bay as he watches Shiro collapse onto one knee.

 

Allura darts across the room and is by his side in seconds, crouching down and reaching out with glowing hands. Shiro cringes away from her, turning away and shuddering ever so slightly. A few moments later, his arm stops glowing and his face clears of pain. He stands up with a negligible amount of unsteadiness.

 

And just like that, it’s over.

 

“Are you alright, Shiro?”

 

Shiro nods and waves Allura off. He moves as if to reach for the empty bayard again, but stops himself.

 

“I think I might be better off without a bayard for now,” he says, giving Allura and everyone else a tight smile.

 

“I… yes, I suppose it might,” Allura concedes.

 

Lance thinks about that incident for a long time after it’s over.

  
  


“Now, this is an ancient sequence,” Coran says. “It’s tried and true, my grandfather used to perform this all the time back in—”

 

“Right, got it!” Lance interrupts. He shifts around next to Hunk in the middle of the training room. The evening sun casts long shadows into the room, now void of Shiro and Keith. Allura stands beside Coran, supervising. Pidge squirms in the chair centered in the room, kicking her short legs and fiddling with her transparent bayard as Coran explains the process.

 

“Now remember boys, only the smallest amount of magic,  _ no _ quintessence.” Coran eyes Lance suspiciously. “As long as you are synchronized, nothing bad should happen.”

 

“But it  _ could _ happen? Oh my gosh, what if we mess up, Lance? What if  _ I _ mess up?!”

 

Lance raises his arms in a placating gesture. “Hunk, chill. We won’t mess this up, we already know how to do these things.”

 

Hunk slowly calms down, taking several deep breaths before his face settles into determination.

 

“Right, we got it.”

 

Lance smiles. “Easy peasy.”

 

“You boys ready to start?” Coran taps his foot against the ground impatiently.

 

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Hunk says.

 

Lance takes a few moments to roll out his shoulders, pumping himself up for the task at hand.

 

He’s got this, he’s basically a pro with magic. Despite his recent, er, setbacks, he’s been able to keep up pretty well with everything that’s happened. He can do this.

 

And he knows Hunk can too. Despite declining Allura’s offer of formal Altean training, he’s developed his own solid base of skill, and he’ll easily be able to perform the ancient sequence Coran and Allura outlined.

 

Lance takes a few deep breaths himself, then begins to pull and spread magic through his body. He pushes the slimy yellow magic on top of his core out of his mind, focusing solely on the cold magic in his chest.

 

When he opens his eyes, the world is tinted blue.

 

Beside him, Hunk glows sunny yellow, leaning just a bit towards yellow-green in the whites of his eyes.

 

They both nod in unison, and reach out to grip each other’s forearms tightly for a moment, before separating and moving away.

 

The sequence they move through is clearly ancient. Every move Lance makes feels calculated and purposeful, a stark difference from his usual fluid style. Despite the differences, the sequence isn’t particularly difficult, just different.

 

The gestures and movements are wide and clear, following a complex evolution that begins with rigid stances low to the ground and ends with tall, angular arm positions. Throughout the whole dance, Lance pushes more and more magic up to the surface of his skin as he moves in a gradually narrowing circle, with Hunk moving in the opposite direction.

 

He begins to feel the first weights of fatigue about halfway through, but the sheer exhilaration end.

 

His movements slow as he nears Pidge, sitting nervously in her chair. She holds up her bayard with the long side-guards pointed upward in both hands, and as Lance and Hunk synchronize their movements during the last beats of the silent song, she stands.

 

Lance and Hunk finish the sequence standing in front of Pidge, one foot low to the ground and pointed away while one hand reaches up towards the bayard.

 

They both touch the guards of the bayard ever so slightly, withdrawing their arms immediately after and straightening up. Lance pulls his magic back to his core as soon as it’s over, letting the cool tint in his vision fade away.

 

The effect of the minimal touch of the magics blooms from the points of contact. Everyone watches as the blue and yellow magics fill the sides of the bayard like dyes in clear water. The blue and yellow fill the guards and then suddenly rush towards the handle where Pidge tightly holds on.

 

The converging magics clash beneath Pidge’s grip and the bayard fills with bright, glowing green.

 

~

 

There aren’t many things that get Pidge going. Math, programming, technology in general, and observing magic, of course. Everything she was interested in she felt mostly in her head, though she was definitely fine with that. Physically engaging things were never really something she was interested in.

 

But this, this is something exactly that.

 

Pidge’s hands itch to do something, to move. The palms of her hands are full of so much latent kinetic potential it almost stings. Even more potent is the jolt of something she can’t quite identify right away shooting up from the base of her spine all the way to her head.

 

It could be something like energy, but it feels different from her hands. It spreads out from her backbone down to her toes and fingers, branching once and then twice and then so many times until she can only barely feel something there, not pain or heat of touch but raw stimulation.

 

Pidge can feel herself laughing, but she’s curiously removed from her surroundings, looking in on her body as both observer and the subject. If she concentrates on one part, she can almost imagine the neurons firing, impulses firing so quickly she can barely react to them before they’re somewhere else.

 

She’d spent so long being an outsider to the world of magic after Lance introduced her to it, dedicating herself to the fascinating subject despite being unable to experience any of it herself.

 

_ This is it. _

 

Even if it was only a cursory introduction and she’d never get any more, it was more than enough to instill a newfound interest in magic. She’d felt it now, was still feeling it tingling in her hands as she held the bayard in her hands.

  
  


She doesn’t know how much time passes before the feeling starts to recede, withdrawing back into the bayard like a dwindling high. But the energy in her hands does not fade, and she’s not sure she wants it to.

 

Pidge opens her eyes—when did they fall shut?—and looks at the bayard, at  _ her _ bayard.

 

It has a simplistic design, a glowing green blade shaped into a bright arrow anchored to the guards. The delicate curve of the blade turns it into a something elegant, though in a strange, unusual way she’d never considered before.

 

“Aww, what a cute bayard.” Lance smirks despite the sweat dripping down his forehead.

 

Pidge acts on the buzz in her fingertips and jabs him in the side with her bayard. Something in the back of her head knows it won’t hurt him, already knows what she wants the outcome to be.

 

Lance jumps at the minor shock and yelps, voice pitched embarrassingly high. “Hey, rude!”

 

Pidge can’t help the grin that spreads across her face, so wide it almost hurts. With barely a conscious thought, she lets the blade dissolve until she’s just holding the bayard, a bright, invigorating emerald in her hands. She doesn’t want to let go.

 

Pidge jumps forward and pulls Lance and Hunk into a tight hug.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Aw, Pidge,” Hunk coos.

 

Pidge pulls away—she can’t seem to stop smiling—and smiles up at Hunk and Lance.

 

“Really, guys. I never thought I’d ever be able to experience magic personally like this. It was like I could feel every nerve firing at once in my body, and there was so much energy radiating from the bayard—there still  _ is _ , actually—that I feel like I can do anything! I wouldn’t mind feeling this all the time like you guys.”

 

Hunk and Lance give Pidge a strange look.

 

“Uh, that’s definitely  _ not _ how I feel my magic,” Lance says. “Mine is all cool and flowy ‘n stuff.”

 

“Yeah,” Hunk adds. “I guess when our magic combined it made a completely different type.”

 

“That explains why it’s a different color,” Lance muses thoughtfully. “Ah! Get out of my head, Keith, I know how colors work!” He glares at the far wall with a frown.

 

“Anyways,” Hunk continues awkwardly. “What I mean is, the way we feel magic is completely different from the way you feel it. Mine is  _ much _ different from Lance’s and from what yours seems like.”

 

“Mine?” Pidge looks down at the bayard in her hands. She activates it, then deactivates it, watching the blade seemingly flash in and out of existence to her will.  _ Her  _ will.

 

“Yeah,” Hunk says brightly. “Lance and I made a different type of magic. You’re the only one who can control that bayard, now. I can’t feel the magic at all.”

 

“Really?” Pidge asks eagerly. The thought of having a magical experience that only she’s privy to is a strange one.  _ Her  _ magic.

 

“It appears so.” Allura steps up beside Pidge with a proud smile. “I knew you’d be happy with the end result. You may not be able to use magic outside of your bayard, but just that is an experience all within itself, isn’t it?”

 

“Fuck yeah it is!”

 

“Pidge!” Hunk scolds, but there’s no bite in the admonishment.

 

“It’s amazing,” Pidge gushes. “So much kinetic potential from an intangible, immeasurable phenomena barely anybody knows about! If only I had more!”

 

Allura smiles, but her eyes can’t commit to the gesture quite well enough to be totally convincing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes I know I said I'm back and now I'm posting a tiny chapter after like two weeks but hear me out okay?
> 
> basically NaNo snuck up on me and caught me totally off guard. I was entirely unprepared but for the first time I remembered it and I thought I could still actually participate this year. I realized it was NaNo I think around the 2nd, so I came up with a whole new story/plot/thing and got about 11k in after playing catchup before I hit the wall and realized that none of what I was writing made sense. I completely pushed aside this fic for it in order to follow the set guidelines best I could, so basically nothing got written. 
> 
> I called it quits a few days ago as of this posting and came back to this because I actually feel like I sort of know what I'm doing with this and where it's going for now.
> 
> The updates probably won't be as common as they were in the beginning because I have school obligations and a strong lack of discipline, but I'm going to be trying to make myself a schedule so 2+ weeks don't pass with only a few thousand words.
> 
> if you'd like to drop by and say hey or something, you can talk to me on IG @canderscene where I post my art n stuff
> 
> tl;dr NaNo kicked my ass but I dropped it and am now actually going to be focusing my writing on this fic. Updates will hopefully be more frequent, but not as frequent as they were when I began.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and please point out any flaws or inconsistencies you see!


	8. Distant Pieces of the Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh sorry this took so long (again)  
> The ideas are sitting in my brain but I can't seem to do them justice on paper, so here's the best I have.

Shiro tries and fails to muster up the energy to scream as he lays on his side just off the shoulder of the highway.

 

His heavily bruised ribs scream out in protest, but that pain is nothing compared to the mangled mess of red and white in the space his arm used to inhabit. His vision swims in and out of focus as he tries in vain to move his broken fingers. All that he gains from the attempt is more pain, and his hand remains deathly still.

 

All around him lies bits and pieces of corrugated metal. If he really focuses, he can see the remains of the steering wheel, torn to shreds in the grass a few feet past his arm.

 

Shiro hopes that whoever was in the other car wasn’t as badly damaged.

 

He doesn’t try to move—the agony is more than enough to keep him where he is—and the nauseating stench of gasoline and blood makes the thought of getting up almost too much to handle.

 

Shiro tries to stay conscious for when the ambulance arrives, tries to make sure he knows his name and where he lives.

 

Did he have his insurance card in his wallet? He can’t remember. And what was Keith’s number again? They’ll want to know who to contact. What about his company? Who should take over for him until he’s able? Will he be able to at all?

 

All this thinking isn’t doing much to keep him awake, but he keeps at it even though the fuzziness has completely taken over. He can’t hear the sirens yet; he has to stay conscious.

 

A shadow fall across Shiro’s face, and he tries to turn to see who it is.

 

All he manages is a dark shadow before his vision turns blindingly bright.

 

Morning.

 

The transition between the dream and reality is too smooth for Shiro to register the difference, and he awakes to a pain in his arm.

 

He bolts upright clutching at his shoulder even as he squints in the early morning light. This pain is much different from the frequent phantom spikes he’s used to. This pain feels all too reminiscent of the crash.

 

The air is soon filled with Shiro’s heavy pants, and the sharp scent of sweat burns in his nostrils.

 

Shiro tries to stand—an incorrect decision, he soon discovers, as the pain heightens enough to bring him to his knees.

 

A dark shadow stands in the edges of his periphery, a familiar spectre waiting for him.

 

He refuses.

 

Shiro is well-acquainted with the burning pain, knows just how hard it is to do much of anything when there’s enough of it. He stares down at his glowing arm and tries to move his burning fingers.

 

Nothing.

 

He tries again. This isn’t the crash, but something as a result of what happened after it.

 

He couldn’t do anything back then, but he can now.

 

Shiro turns towards the dark apparition in the corner of his room and stares it down as he closes his hand into a fist.

 

The shadow fades from his vision, and he relaxes.

 

Another incorrect decision.

 

The pain in his arm triples, if possible, and Shiro has to bite back a scream as flashes of that stretch of road burn themselves into his retinas. The shadow reappears in the corner of his room, or at least he thinks it does. His vision is swimming too much for him to be able to tell for sure.

 

Shiro’s limbs give out on him and he falls onto his side in a twisted parallel of the crash.

 

He watches his arm glow brighter against the carpet until he has to squeeze his eyes shut or risk blinding himself. The pain worsens until he’s sure he’s just reliving those moments before that shadow appeared.

 

Shiro loses nearly all sense of the world after some indeterminate amount of time, nearly falling back asleep only to be reawoken by another bite of pain radiating up his arm. Coherent thought is a laughable fantasy.

 

And then he smells something burning.

 

The carpet.

 

Shiro’s eyes fly open. He squints at the blinding light emanating from his arm and the pale line of smoke rising from the tiny fire it’s made of the carpet.

 

He turns his arm over with effort and glares at his glowing arm. The pain has dulled, but not nearly enough to be anything less than extremely distracting.

 

Shiro moves his good hand down to hover over his arm.  _ Stop. _ The burn intensifies, but he persists. Stop. He won’t be able to do anything if he can’t control his own body, won’t be anything more than a liability to the others in stopping Zarkon. It may have come from an untraditional place, but Shiro’s arm is his.

 

Slowly, the glow fades, until he’s left with cool gray metal. Good.

 

Shiro picks himself up, head spinning, and stumbles out of his room. He has to lean heavily on the walls, taking care not to touch anything with his right arm just in case, and makes his way into the bathroom. With one hand, he manages to turn on the water and get a cup under it, but his hand shakes half the water out and he has to take a moment to steady himself.

 

When Shiro has an acceptable amount of water, he staggers out of the bathroom without turning the water off and heads back to his room.

 

The fire has only just begun to grow when he dumps the cup of water onto it, effectively killing the hot flame.

 

Shiro collapses onto the ground next to the charred section of carpet. His prosthetic feels sore and worn out, and the day has only just begun.

 

He breathes deeply, though it sounds like more of a sigh, and touches the set of panels close to the base of his wrist. A light tingle runs up his arm and down through his fingers as he carefully recalibrates his hand. He touches his thumb with each of his fingers until the prickling fades.

 

A moment later, the fire alarm starts to beep.

 

~

 

“Zarkon will not hesitate to do whatever is necessary to strike us down, so we must be prepared whenever we are outside the castle.” Allura’s voice echoes around the courtyard from invisible speakers, making the floor vibrate and tickle Lance’s feet. “You must always keep the materializer I’ve given you on your person, and be ready to use it at any time.”

 

“Make sure you don’t keep it anywhere obvious,” Coran chimes in, with a cheer that contrasts sharply with Allura’s serious tone. “According to the stories my grandfather told me back in the day, the paladins wore their materializers on their legs, symbolizing their unity as a team and their solid dynamic!”

 

Lance plays with the hem of his uniform, tugging at the material while the others stand idly nearby.

 

“Activate your bayards, paladins.”

 

Lance catches flashes of colored light in his peripherals, and hurries to form his bayard. He’s a tick slow on the uptake though, and Allura’s already continuing by the time he tugs the bayard out of the tiny compartment in his right pocket and into physical existence.

 

“Feel the connection between the weapon and yourself. Let the bayard become one with your body. As you might have already discovered, the bayard follows the whims of its owner.”

 

Lance glares down at his bayard. ‘Whims’ his ass! He briefly wonders whether or not he got a glitchy bayard. That would be just perfect.

 

But whatever; Lance has things to do, and he’s not going to let a half-broken bayard get in his way.

 

He turns his attention to the feel of the gun in his hand, and how the distinctly cool grip feels almost like metal under his fingers. He concentrates hard on that feeling, ignoring the pang of nostalgia in his chest, and imagines the bayard fused onto his hand. As the seconds tick by and the bayard starts to match Lance’s body temperature, it begins to feel a bit lighter in his hands—easier to work with, maybe.

 

Yeah, this is fine! Maybe he actually just needed a few seconds to get used to it, that’s all. Lance likes that possibility much more than the other one.

 

“In order to be a cohesive team, you must be able to work together as a single unit,” Allura says.

 

The ceiling slides away like a panel to open up the room, the walls curving up into a dome-like shape. Far up on one of them is a long window, where the faint outline of Allura and Coran’s heads are just barely visible.

 

“Holy crow, was that a thing this whole time?”

 

“Yes, Lance,” is Allura’s exasperated response over the speakers. “Now, as I was saying, you must learn to work and fight as a team. The people standing next to you are your allies, not your enemies.”

 

The sharp sound of the speakers cutting out leaves the room in anticipatory silence.

 

Moments later, the three holes in the floor open up on the far side of the room. A triad of robots climbs through, white with accents of blue and yellow and cool glowing orbs for eyes.

 

_ When was  _ this _ a thing? _

 

“Um, Allura?” Hunk calls out tentatively. His grip tightens over the handle of his bayard.

 

Lance cranes his neck to look up at the window Allura and Coran had been standing by. The glass is tinted dark, with no sign of the Alteans anywhere.

 

“Oh man.”

 

The three robots lunge forward in unison, and everyone splits apart.

 

Lance and Hunk both dart to the side, staying close to the wall as Keith and Pidge back away towards the far wall and Shiro is left on his own.  _ Oh man _ .

 

The robot closest to Lance and Hunk swerves in their direction. Its jerky movements increase in intensity as it nears the pair. With a yelp, they dive out of the way as the robot leaps towards them, slamming against the wall. 

 

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Hunk is already starting to panic as they push themselves onto their feet. Lance feels not too far behind.

 

Still, he scrambles to his feet and turns to fire his bayard at the robot. The crosshairs in the sights are foreign and the gun feels too much like a toy, but he manages to nail all of the shots on the robot’s body.

 

The glowing bullets ping off its white armor like fluorescent tic-tacs, leaving Lance to clumsily backpedal as it runs forward. His foot catches on something and he falls onto his butt.

 

“Lance!” Hunk is already at the other corner of the room. He holds his bayard at the ready but his expression is stricken.

 

Before Lance can get up, a cold hand slams into his chest, forcing him onto his back. All he sees is a white blur above him before he feels the ground open up behind him. His heart drops into the pit of his stomach.

 

“Shit!”

 

Lance falls into darkness accompanied by the sound of Hunk yelling his name and various noises from the other fights going on in the background.

 

He hits the ground on his back a short time later, knocking whatever breath he’d managed to get after the robot put him down. It takes more than a few long moments of wheezing and coughing before he manages to breathe properly again.

 

“Holy crow,” he says hoarsely, rubbing at his sore chest. He hopes it doesn’t bruise.

 

A sour feeling takes root in his core and the coppery taste of blood fills his mouth. He’d bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood.

 

“That was terrible, Lance.”

 

“Allura?”

 

Yup, it’s Allura. She stands in front of Lance like she’s been there for a while, and he wonders how he managed to miss her intimidating presence in the room.

 

“You can do better than this.” She opens her mouth to continue, but cuts herself off before she can say anything. Instead, she turns and motions for Lance to follow as she walks towards an open doorway, where Coran stands.

 

She leads them to the room overlooking the training room, up a quick elevator and down a short hallway, and guides him to the main window. Beside the window is an array of glowing buttons and switches, labeled in Altean.

 

Down below, Only Keith and Shiro are left in the room, with one of the robots lying disabled on the floor. They fight back to back, and although they both hold back the robots attacking them, it’s clear that Shiro is the better fighter. He punches and blocks with his prosthetic arm, glowing a tame lavender hue that leaves dark marks on the robot. His face is filled with determination, powerful yet serene at the same time.

 

_ Now when was  _ that _ a thing? _

 

Keith, on the other hand, is nearly at his limit, judging from the distant fatigue in Lance’s bones. Even at this distance, his chest heaves as he struggles to move his sword up in time to block the robot attacking him. He and the robot appear to have reached a deadlock, but only for a moment, before it turns to the side and rams into him.

 

The robot bowls over Keith, pushing him back into Shiro and knocking them both onto the ground. They both disappear into an opening hole in the floor and the robots fall limply to the ground.

 

~

 

“You distracted me!” Keith jabs a finger in Lance’s direction as soon as he’s within eyesight, letting his bayard dissolve into his materializer as he storms into the room.

 

“My thoughts had nothing to do with  _ you _ messing up,” Lance retorts coldly. His grip on his blue gun tightens as he half-turns away from Keith.

 

“ _ Yes, they did _ . I was doing fine until you butted in with another one of your stupid comments.”

 

Lance scoffs and turns back towards Keith. “Hah! As if. You were already about to fail, Keith, don’t try to pull that bullshit. You were  _ this _ close to getting your ass kicked, I could feel it.” Lance pinches his thumb and forefinger together to emphasize his point.

 

“You—”

 

“Enough.” Shiro steps between Keith and Lance, pushing them away from each other as he gives them both a stern look. “You both need to be able to work together if we want any chance of taking down Zarkon.”

 

That does a good job of sobering up Keith, though it doesn’t last very long once he catches Lance’s hard glare. He glares back with rivaling intensity before breaking eye contact to turn away.

 

_ What a prick, _ he thinks sourly. He ignores the indignant reply in his head and vows to not look in Lance’s direction again.

 

It seemed like Lance had done everything in his power to break Keith’s focus down in the training room. Right from the start, he’d been jumpy and unprepared, and his own surprise had coupled with Keith’s when the robots first attacked that it took every ounce of concentration to stay on his feet. It felt like he was battling with himself up until Lance got taken down, which was a relief for all of zero seconds.

 

Keith had felt the moment Lance had gotten the air knocked out of him, and then he had to power through the confusing jumble of acrid feelings that threatened to bowl him over if he wasn’t careful.

 

By the time the robot knocked him into Shiro and they both fell, he was as emotionally drained as physically.

 

Even now he still feels on edge; the remnants of whatever Lance was feeling still lingering somewhere in his system. He still can’t decipher them, but he doesn’t want to anyways, so he pushes them aside.

 

“Asshole.”

 

Keith bristles but refuses to acknowledge the insult.

 

“ _ Ahem. _ ” Allura gives Lance a pointed look. “As I was saying, the unique properties of the bayard should have enabled you to use yours without troubles, but it seems like you’ll need more time to get used to them. We’ll take a short break, then try out individual training.”

 

Keith grits his teeth against the faint tinge of anxiety smoldering in his gut. Hopefully with the individual training, Lance won’t be so inclined to keep pushing his damned feelings into Keith.

 

After their break—which turns out to be barely two minutes of standing in the viewing room—Lance volunteers to go first, go figure. He makes sure to boast about setting the bar too high for the others, and Keith feels nothing but his overstated confidence when he saunters out of the room.

 

Keith leans close to the tinted glass and anchors his hands on the ledge below as Lance strolls into the training room below. He wonders how he can prepare himself for the inevitable rollercoaster of emotions he’s about to encounter, but drops the thought when a shining robot rises up out of the floor.

 

Keith’s heart rate spikes and he has to dig his fingers into the ledge to keep himself from cursing out loud.

 

Lance backpedals immediately, materializing and activating his bayard with an exaggerated flourish. There’s the smallest flash of another color when the weapon appears in his hand, too quick to fully register but slow enough to see that for the tiniest moment he did not hold a blue bayard.

 

_ C’mon, let’s go, baby! _

 

Lance raises his bayard to fire at the robot as it leaps forward into a run. The shots are true, but the bullets only ping off the robot’s armor. It doesn’t even slow down.

 

_ Shit. _

 

Keith watches as Lance lowers his bayard and resorts to awkwardly dancing away when the robot gets a bit too close for comfort. He fires again at the robot with the same results, and yelps when it gets close enough to swipe at him.

 

For a short while, that’s all the fight is: Lance firing at the robot and running when it nears him. It’s beyond embarrassing, but he seems to have no shame. All the while, Keith struggles to control his racing heart rate, inhaling and exhaling as inconspicuously as possible to avoid drawing the attention of the others.

 

Not that they’re paying him any attention anyways. Hunk and Pidge are watching the spectacle and making jokes to each other, while Shiro and Allura sound like they’re analyzing Lance’s poor form. Coran is silent.

 

Keith is watching so intently that the moment everything changes is clear as day. The robot’s speed increases, subtle but so obvious it’s a wonder Lance hasn’t noticed. It brushes off his useless bullets and lunges for him at full speed. The tackle takes the breath away from Keith’s lungs, and the burn in his legs make him feel even weaker.

 

Lance goes down through the opening floor and the robot stands victorious for a short moment before collapsing onto the ground.

 

Lance must’ve been able to catch himself before getting the air knocked out of him again, because there’s a sharp pain in Keith’s knees and his right palm stings.

 

That acidic feeling settles in his stomach again, but he thinks he can recognize it this time around. It’s almost identical to the bitter taste of defeat, but underneath lies something bitter and resentful.

 

A false start.

 

The feeling is soon replaced by nonchalance when Lance ambles back into the room, though the pain in Keith’s knees does not go away.

 

He makes some dumb comment that Keith forgets about immediately, and then Hunk is up next.

 

For the most part, he fares the same as Lance, with some notable exceptions.

 

Hunk isn’t as fast as Lance, but his bayard, when he uses it in short bursts, is effective at keeping the robot far enough away from him. He shows his nerves easily on his face, clearly afraid of the pain that comes with getting caught by the robot and the inevitable pain of falling through the floor.

 

Still, just like before, the robot gets a tiny bit faster after a few minutes, and Hunk is taken down soon after.

 

Pidge is the first to do something different when she goes down to the training room.

 

She aims her bayard at the robot and the blade shoots out, attached to a glowing green rope. It strikes the robot in the chest and a spark of electricity runs across it’s body. Keith wonders how she knew it could do that. Her attack slows the robot, but only for a few moments before it’s back up to speed.

 

Pidge yells out a curse and fires her bayard up towards the observation room.

 

The glowing blade digs into the wall and she smirks. She pulls the rope taut and it retracts, dragging her away from the robot and up towards the window of the room.

 

That’s about the last interesting thing that happens.

 

Once Pidge gets high up on the wall, she refuses to come down with the robot waiting for her on the floor. After a few minutes, she manages to somehow negotiate a truce with Allura, agreeing to willingly surrender as long as she won’t be attacked by the robot once she gets down.

 

The exasperation in Allura’s voice is prominent when she agrees. Keith feels a burst of pity, compounded by Lance’s sympathy as he watches her go to one of the panels and disable the robot. This is clearly not how she was expecting this to go.

 

“I’ll go next,” Keith says.

 

When he steps into the training room, a spark of excitement leaps up into his lungs. His  _ own _ excitement. As long as he doesn’t let Lance get in his head again, he’ll be fine.

 

As Keith activates his bayard in a flash of brilliant red and the robot rises up to face him, he smiles.

 

The robot dashes at Keith with its eyes glowing with energy, and he sprints forward to meet it, lungs burning with a fire he knows belongs to him.

 

This is what he’s made for.

  
  


A jolt of power and kinetic energy runs up his arm when he moves to block a punch from the robot. Using his free hand to keep his balance, Keith darts to the side and moves to strike at the robot. The blade sings as it flies through the air to dig into the robot’s side. The robot swipes at Keith and throws him back, tearing the bayard from it to a chorus of tearing metal.

 

Keith lands on his back with a huff, pushing himself up to his feet and diving off to the left just before the ground opens up to swallow him.

 

“I’m not done yet,” he mutters under his breath.

 

The sword feels so  _ perfect _ in his hands. Keith runs forward for another go, lashing out at the robot with every ounce of his being.

 

The shock that digs into his muscles as the robot is forced to block him this time stings lightly. The slight pain hovers on the edges of Keith’s periphery, barely relevant as he dodges a kick aimed for his ribs. His hand is going to go numb soon, but he can’t find it in himself to care very much.

 

Everything about this battle feels right. When Keith manages to slip under the robot’s guard and slice at its leg, the satisfaction increases his determination to win. Even when he’s too slow to block and the robot clips his shoulder, the adrenaline makes his blood burn all the harder.

 

Keith jumps out of the way of another opening in the floor to cheat his loss again, and lunges forward while the robot’s still off-balance from the hit.

 

But that’s when the change occurs.

 

Just like with the others, Keith can pinpoint the moment the robot seems to get just a little bit faster. He barely has enough time to redirect his attack when the robot’s ready for him again, having regained it’s balance quicker than he’d anticipated.

 

He goes for its upper body instead, pushing off his lead foot and drawing back his arm to strike.

 

Instead of moving to defend, the robot steps into the strike, ducking low to bodyslam Keith directly.

 

“Shit!”

 

Keith makes a choked noise as he’s thrown halfway across the room and onto his side. His ribs already feel like they’re about to start bruising. The ghostly image of purple-yellow skin and labored breathing in his head has him pushing himself to his feet, but it’s too late.

 

The floor opens up under Keith and he drops down.

 

He lands down in a way that makes his knees screech in pain, and lets his bayard dissolve into the materializer circling his wrist. Then there’s a solid minute of trying to breathe normally before he starts towards the elevator.

 

“Good work,” Allura beams proudly.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I bet he hacked the ‘bot or something.” Lance waves his hand dismissively.

 

Keith stalks up to Lance and glares up at him. “What’s your problem? You couldn’t do anything against the robot!”

 

A hand on his shoulder pulls him away from Lance before he can respond.

 

“Hey, good job down there,” Shiro says as he pulls Keith aside. “You need to work on your footwork a little more, but you almost had it.”

 

Keith nods, filing away the bit of advice for later. “Thanks, Shiro.”

 

“And don’t mind Lance, he’s just playing,” Shiro adds.

 

Just playing? Yeah, right.

 

“Okay. Good luck.”

 

Shiro gives him a happy thumbs up, and then he’s off.

 

A new robot rises up out of the floor when Shiro enters the training room.

 

Shiro takes a low stance with his right arm glowing at the ready. His expression falls into one of focus and steady determination easily, as if he’s familiar with using his prosthetic in this way.

 

When the robot darts forward and swings, he’s ready.

 

Shiro ducks under the punch and offers one of his own, driving up into its shoulder. The metal gives easily, and the robot is soon missing an arm. Twisted wires and synthetic muscles spark in the open air. Shiro dodges the follow-up punch and grabs the robot’s over extended arm.

 

In one smooth movement, he pulls, using his whole body to throw the robot past him.

 

It slides across the floor several feet before coming to a stop. Before it can stand up, Shiro’s there, forcing his arm through the robot’s neck in a spear-like motion.

 

_ Holy crow. _ Warm admiration fills Keith’s chest.

 

For once, he agrees with the sentiment.

 

Shiro turns to look up at the window and gives a thumbs up.

 

Keith hopes he never has to spar against his brother.

 

~

 

“Why are we getting armor  _ after _ we fought the robots?” Lance asks, toeing the blue-accented armor skeptically. Despite the darkness of the room—conveniently hidden behind the closet with the uniforms—the sets of armor seem to glow with their own light.

 

Around Lance, the others inspect their own color-coded suits.

 

“Training isn’t traditionally conducted with protective gear,” Coran explains matter-of-factly. “In my grandfather’s time, it was customary for paladins to even fight without it!”

 

“Glad that’s not a thing anymore.” Lance pulls the armor off the hook on the wall. It’s surprisingly light in his hands, near weightless actually.

 

_ Cool. _

 

“Are we going to have to wear these out in public?” Pidge asks. “They’re not the most… inconspicuous.” She holds her own suit up to herself, frowning at the tapering shoulders colored green and the clunky chestplate emblazoned with a glowing blue V.

 

“No, these will be for our missions,” Allura explains. “In all other situations, everyone should be wearing their uniforms, except for you and Shiro.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“What? No fair.”

 

“Why would they have to wear them?” Keith asks. “They don’t have magic so they’re useless to them.”

 

Lance rounds on Keith with a glare already set on his face. “Nobody was talking to you, mullet!”

 

Keith bristles visibly, and drops the armor he’s holding to stomp over to Lance.

 

“What’s your problem with me?”  _ I didn’t do anything to you. _

 

_ You can’t just waltz into my life and suddenly be a part of everything important going on just ‘cause you have a little magic _ , Lance practically screams out in his head.  _ My life was perfectly fine before  _ you  _ showed up out of nowhere,  _ Keith.

 

_ What do you want me to do, apologize for  _ you  _ running into me and  _ choosing _ to give me half your magic? _

 

The yellow magic sitting in Lance’s core ripples with nauseating energy, and he has to grit his teeth and tense his muscles to keep himself from doubling over from it.

 

“You have no right to be here,” he hisses darkly. “This has nothing to do with  _ you _ .”

 

Allura pushes Keith and Lance away from each other forcefully to step in between them, turning to face Lance and glare him into submission.

 

“Keith has every right to be here,” she states firmly. “Zarkon is a threat to everyone, regardless of whether they happen to have magic, acquired or not.”

 

Allura waits until Lance nods before stepping away to face him and Keith.

 

“You are both on a team now. If you cannot learn to work together despite your animosity, you will not be a part of it, understand?”

 

Lance and Keith nod, for once in unison.

 

“Good. Now, we will be doing some exercises now, as a team. When you are all dressed, we will meet back up in the training room.”

  
  


Despite Lance’s reservations, the white armor isn’t actually that bad. The thick chestplate makes it a bit stiff, but it moves relatively well with his body when he moves his torso. There’s even a slot for the materializer on the side, blending in with the similar design. His only complaint is the black undersuit, uncomfortable and too tight to for him to be able to get used to it completely.

 

But everyone else seems fine, so he decides to save his issues until after training, when he can talk to Coran.

 

“This is so exciting,” Pidge raves. Her bayard swings wildly in her hands as she hops up and down in the training room with excited energy in her grin.

 

“Right,” Hunk says less assuredly. “Hey Allura? Coran? What are we doing?” He looks around the room nervously, and the hand holding his bayard shakes ever so slightly.

 

“We’ll be starting you off with a common team-building exercise,” Coran says loudly over the comms.

 

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge groan at the same time.

 

“Are you kidding me, Coran?” Lance moans exaggeratedly.

 

“I most certainly am not. We’re starting with something familiar: human knot activity!”

 

Lance pulls a grossed-out face.

 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Pidge says as they slowly form a rough circle. Her bayard disappears from her hand in a flash, and Lance follows suit.

 

“What’s the human knot activity?” Keith asks. He still holds onto his sword as he reluctantly steps in between Shiro and Hunk.

 

“Just follow along,” Lance says gruffly. He reaches out to put one hand on Pidge’s wrist and the other on Shiro’s shoulder as everyone but Keith starts grabbing on random appendages. When Keith makes no move to join in, Lance sighs inwardly. “Just grab onto someone,” he says. “Our arms make a ‘human knot’ and we have to try to untangle ourselves without letting go of each other.”

 

Keith blinks owlishly at Lance for a long moment before letting his bayard dissolve into the air. He places a hand on Shiro’s arm and then, more uncertainly, places the other on Hunk’s shoulder. Hmm.

 

“Okay, who’s the easiest to untangle first?” Shiro asks. He moves his arms a bit, looking for gaps in the ‘knot’. His right arm holds onto Pidge’s other wrist and his other stretches across the circle to hold onto Hunk’s arm.

 

“Probably Keith,” Pidge says. “Nobody’s touching him.”

 

Lance snorts. “Nice.”

 

“Focus,” Shiro scolds. “Good idea, Pidge. Okay, Keith, move your arms up, I need to get on your left side.”

 

Shiro manages to squeeze under Keith and onto his left side without the knot breaking, and that’s about the most progress they manage to make untangling themselves.

 

Two minutes in, and Keith and Lance are back to arguing, though they keep it in their heads and in the sharp glares they toss each other every so often.

 

Five minutes in, Keith and Pidge get into an argument over who should duck under the other. Shiro looks exhausted by the time he manages to calm things down and restore some semblance of order.

 

Ten minutes in, Hunk trips over Lance’s arm and the knot collapses.

 

~

 

Allura pushes away the push of anxiety sitting low in her stomach as she watches the paladins fail the last activity for the fifth time. Every other exercise ended in failure at least three times, and so far none have even been close to anything resembling a success.

 

This time, it’s escalated to a degree that Shiro seems to find hard to control, with Lance and Hunk glaring down Keith and Pidge while Shiro tries to calm things down.

 

_ This was a mistake; they’re not ready for something like this. Zarkon is too powerful for us. _

 

“They have a long way to go,” is all she says to Coran.

 

The older man looks down at the paladins arguing like children with a faith in his eyes Allura’s sure she’d never be able to fake.

 

“The bayards accepted them,” he says. “There must be something in them that makes a team as good as Alfor’s.”

 

Allura frowns down at the argument down below, muffled but distinct even through the thick glass. “But Shiro hasn’t accepted a bayard. And Lance…”

 

She wishes she knew what was bothering her student so she could find a way to fix it or help him get through it. He doesn’t ever mention anything bothering him to her unless it’s extremely trivial. But Allura can tell in the way he lags behind the others that something’s amiss. Coran can too.

 

“It must have something to do with his prosthetic, I know,” she says, “but there’s no way to remove it without killing him.”

 

Coran nods slightly. “Voltron didn’t start out perfect.”

 

“But it was so much better than this! It was so apparent that father’s unit had the chemistry and the desire to work together and protect each other. I can’t see any of it now.”

 

“They just need some more time to get used to each other. Your father and the rest of his unit were friends for a long time before they came to be Voltron.”

 

Shiro’s stepping between Lance and Keith now, pushing them aside with a stern face despite the tired look in his eyes. Hunk and Pidge still bicker behind him, pointing fingers and throwing wild hand gestures into the air.

 

_ He’s too powerful for us. _

 

Allura pinches the bridge of her nose in an effort to stave off an oncoming migraine. She turns away from the window.

 

“We don’t have time.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Again, sorry this took so long(and it's still not up to the length I want it to be smh)
> 
> \---  
> By the way, @ everyone who's commented: thank you so much I see every comment and have responded to nearly all of them(there were a few that I just didn't have anything to say that wasn't repetitive or just thanks but I see them and they make me so happy??)  
> You can chill with me on Twitter(http://bit.ly/2i1P6cm) or IG(http://bit.ly/2jwLy2s) if you want.  
> \---
> 
> As always, if you spot anything weird please feel free to let me know :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!!
> 
> and please let me know if you find any errors or something seems off about anything


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